You Ask I Answer: Husband Edition!
by Inkblooded Witch
Summary: Castiel, a social studies teacher at a small town high school, is content with his mild-mannered existence. Unfortunately, when you're married to someone who's quasi-famous it's virtually impossible to remain under the radar indefinitely. Destiel, future Sabriel, Youtuber!Dean and Teacher!Castiel. Rated for language. WARNING: Irregular updates!
1. VOL 1

**I've been meaning to work on this particular plot bunny for a while, and naturally it doubled in size as I worked on it.**

 **Confession: This from yet another prompt found on, wait for it, Pinterest. :P It can also be found on Instagram. Links posted on AO3 post for the usual reasons. The finished product is mine but all props for the original idea go to whoever made the original post.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Castiel glanced up as he set a stack of folders on his desk, the warning bell ringing as his homeroom class began to trickle in. Not for the first time he saw a group of girls gathered around a cell phone currently serving communal purposes. The giggling had drawn his attention, and he smiled wryly. There was more clamor as teenagers began sliding into desks, for all half of them had their attention on their own phones, but he knew what they were watching. He'd know that voice anywhere, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd heard it here. Many of his students were fans of one particular, local YouTuber. There weren't many such people in Sioux Falls, after all.

For his part Castiel was intimately aware of Dean Winchester's work, though not because he spent hours watching every video on his channel. Impala67 had many followers and even more viewers. He was sociable, comedic, and had a way of telling stories that was very entertaining. His videos covered a wide range of things, from stories to reviews on various movies or products to cooking. These days he'd gotten good enough that he didn't technically have to work, though he kept a part time position at a mechanic shop. For all his stories, almost all of which had actually happened to him over the years, he kept most of his private life private. This, unfortunately, resulted in even more pining. Even Castiel was aware of all the speculation his students made regarding him and his currently obscured love life, which was almost as irksome as having grown adults do the same thing. They, at least, had fully developed brains.

As was his habit, Castiel allowed the cellular indulgence until the final bell rang. Most of them put their phones away after that anyway, but a few lingered. Castiel put that day's power point up onto the drop screen, then gave stacks of handouts to everyone sitting in the front row to pass back. To his annoyance they were still very intent on the video, four of them all together.

Heaving a quiet sigh, Castiel set down the extra handouts and made his way to the back cluster of desks. He could hear Dean's dialogue now, well enough to tell which video it was before he caught a glimpse of the title. It was the 'Never Have I Ever' video. A week prior to its filming Dean had asked for suggested questions, and he'd picked ten of the few hundred to use, though the numbers weren't quite so staggering once he'd removed the repeats. They were almost halfway through the twenty-minute video, and Dean was in the middle of reneging how he'd gotten a speeding ticket.

For what it was worth, the rest of the class was aware of Castiel's approach. They were smirking, watching, a few were snickering, but no one moved to intercept or warn the girls. None of them looked up, too focused on their video.

Castiel stopped next to them, folding is arms, waiting. Still ignoring him one of them asked absently, "I wonder what kind of car he drives."

He grimaced at that. Thankfully Dean hadn't made a video for Baby yet, despite numerous requests. He'd tried, actually, but so far the shortest he'd been able to get one was a full hour. Castiel had managed to extract a promise that he wouldn't post it until he could at least get it down to forty-five minutes, which was the length of his longest video thus far.

"Do not get Dean Winchester started on his car," Castiel stated, making them start as he announced his presence. "Ever. He will never shut up."

With that he plucked the offending device from the girl's fingers, turned it off, and headed back towards the front of his classroom.

"You can get this back when class is over. Please turn to chapter six. Today we're starting on the Mongol Empire."

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

"Have you seen it yet? It's hilarious."

"No," was the whining response. "What's it called?"

"'How To Not Screw Up an Omelet'."

"Is it good?"

"I just said it was."

"I meant the omelet."

"Of course it was."

Castiel rolled his eyes, trying to ignore his coworkers at the next table as he chewed. At least now he had the refreshing experience of hearing two males discussing Dean Wincher's work. For what it was worth, though, Dean _was_ a good cook. That particular series of videos were focused on the best ways to make cheap, often easy meals. Castiel knew for experience they were lifesavers for people who had little money and even less time but also wanted to avoid frequenting drive-throughs. And yes, the omelet was good. For all it had a quarter cup of bacon bits for every two eggs and almost as much cheese.

A true testament to those particular co-worker's devotion was that they were both eating prep meals from some of Dean's earlier videos. Not for the first time Castiel wondered if anyone ever noticed his own lunches, despite the fact word had gotten around his culinary skills were limited. Today, for example, was reheated broccoli and cheese soup with a turkey sandwich in a roll. Still stowed in his lunch bag was a brownie, made from scratch. His husband had decided before they were even married that he couldn't tolerate Castiel bringing PB&J's with pork rinds and oatmeal cream pies to work every single day for lunch, without fail.

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

Castiel glanced at his phone as he stepped out of his classroom, eyes skimming over the text before he pocketed it. The halls were already swarming with students on their way to lunch, the first wave making its way to the cafeteria. He began making his way towards the front office, not for the first time irritated that it was in the building farthest from where he held his Social Studies classes.

As it was, Castiel only had to step out of the building and look across the courtyard to see who he was looking for. Unfortunately they were currently surrounded by a growing swarm of fans. Teens and several other staff members were gathered around the school's visitor, announcing praise of his work and asking questions.

Grimacing, Castiel made his way towards the small mob.

Dean Winchester, for all his internet fame, was a bit shyer in person. He was the sort of person who hated being called out at his own birthday parties. Even so he was handling the attention rather well. Grinning for selfies, answering the most repeated questions, even signing what looked suspiciously like homework assignments with mechanical pencils.

Eventually Castiel made his way to the group's edge, then began shuffling his way towards it center. Thankfully the students began to scatter, a few of his coworkers backing off with somewhat embarrassed expressions. When he finally had Dean's attention he was roughly two feet from the other man, who'd just turned from taking a selfie with an overjoyed freshmen.

"Hey, Cas. Here ya go."

"Thank you, Dean."

Heat warmed Castiel's face as he took the offered lunch bag, Dean pecking his cheek as he handed it over. A gesture that got more than one exclamation and squeal of excitement. Today he had been running a little late and completely forgotten his lunch. Thankfully today was not one of the days where Dean was working at the shop, so it was easy enough to make the twenty-minute drive to Sioux Falls High School.

One of Castiel's bolder, more excitable students was already squealing the announcement, "Oh my gods! Mr. Novak is dating Dean!"

That got a pair of raised eyebrows from Dean. He reached over, lacing his fingers through Castiel's free left hand and holding both their hands up for all to see. More specifically, both their wedding bands for all to see. "Actually, Dean is married to Mr. Novak."

The resulting squeals made Castiel wince, the cumulation of so many high-pitched sounds acutely painful.

Dean just chuckled, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go and turning to leave. "See you at home, Cas." Louder he called, "Didn't the lunch bell just go off?"

Reminded that their forty-minute window was rapidly shrinking, a majority of the crowd scattered. A few more faithful fans stuck to the retreating man's heels, asking about his car. Instantly a broad, proud smile spread across Dean's face. Shaking his head morosely, Castiel turned to head towards the teacher's lounge. He doubted that particular group would ever get their lunch, if they were to spend the whole period listening to all Dean had to say about Baby. He adored the man, and he respected Baby, but when it came to things his husband was really passionate about he turned into an enthusiastic five-year-old.

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

"No."

"Come on, Cas," Dean coaxed, nudging his arm.

Castiel rolled over, stuffing his pillow under his chin and folding his arms under it to peer in the direction of the newly erected filming area. Generally Dean did this in his home office, but sometimes he did it in other places. Today he'd set it up in the corner of their bedroom, on a desk where two chairs had been pulled over, the frame wide enough for two people.

"Dean, it's Sunday. I've been grading tests all weekend. I want to sleep."

"I know, but if we're going to get all the footage and still have time to edit it right before tonight we need to get going."

Castiel groaned, burying his face in his pillow. In a muffled voice he asked, "What time is it?"

"It's only eight o'clock." Judging from his enthusiasm Dean had already had his obligatory two cups of coffee. Damn him.

"Why do they want this?"

"I've never filmed with anyone except Sammy. This is exciting for them. Please?"

Castiel didn't bother asking why Dean was giving in. It was his habit, and it was the nature of his work. Part of why Dean was so good at his job was because he listened to his viewers. Much to Castiel's dismay, word had gotten around that not only was Dean not single and ready to mingle, he was married. To another man, no less. He'd managed to lose followers then gain nearly double that amount overnight at the revelation of his non-heterosexuality. While he still refused to talk about it Dean was, in truth, a confirmed bisexual. He'd had more female partners over the years than male ones, but it just happened to be a man he'd fallen in love with. Castiel has had a feeling he'd be caving to the demands as to their relationship and the story behind it soon enough, but apparently the requests were already mounting. And Dean endeavored to never disappoint his viewers.

"What's this video going to be about again?" he asked wearily.

Dean grinned, offering him a mug of steaming coffee. Grudgingly Castiel sat up to take it, sitting in a cross-legged position to nurse the ambrosia. "I'm gonna introduce you and we're going to do some basic Q&A. I already put out a poll yesterday for questions."

Castiel's eyes narrowed over the mug's rim. "You did what? When?"

"After breakfast. Come on, Cas, work with me here. I thought you wanted to be involved."

"Not in front of the camera," Castiel protested. He didn't add that his curiosity into his husband's work had been primarily a wish to spend more time with him.

"One of these days you're going to have to tell me how you managed to teach there for six years and somehow no one knew you were married to me," Dean informed him. "But whoever saw me there spread the word. They know your name, where you work, and what you do. They want to get to know you, Cas, that's all. Right now all they've got is gossip from your students."

"My students don't mind me. I'm fair with most of them."

Dean winced. "You're a teacher, there's always going to be one sour bastard or another ready to complain. Look, these are the questions. I took out the top ten most popular that I thought would be in your comfort zone."

Castiel took the paper, reading it over. There were a few he wasn't so sure about, but for Dean he'd go through with it. Once he'd studied all the questions and contemplated suitable answers he handed back the list. "I'll need to get a shower first."

His husband beamed, getting off the bed and leaving him to his coffee. Once he was caffeinated, fed, and refreshed Castiel spent a while poking around his closet before settling on what he hoped was an appropriate outfit. Dean then corrected him and had him put on something not designated as work clothes. Apparently he wanted to project a more relaxed vibe, since they were both at home and it _was_ the weekend. This apparently entailed gray sweatpants and an old S.C.U. t-shirt he would normally wear around the house.

Perching nervously on the rolling desk chair as Dean turned on the camera and got the angle to his satisfaction, Castiel eyed the list again. "Um, is there anything I should avoid?"

"Just let it flow. You'll do fine, babe."

Castiel wasn't so sure. A moment later the red light blinked on and Dean relocated to sit next to him, grinning at the lens. "What's up world? Your friendly neighborhood Batman is back with a _very_ special episode. I have with me today my awesome husband Castiel. Yeah, you heard right, husband." He held up his left hand, wiggling his fingers to display his wedding band while his free hand held up Castiel's wrist to show his matching silver band. Then he dropped both their hands and turned to the other man and coaxed, "Say hi, Cas."

"Um, hello," he intoned, inclining his head towards the camera.

"So the cat's out, I'm married. Have been for a while. You guys wanted to meet him, so here you go." He circled a finger in a halo motion over Castiel's head. A gesture that had his husband glancing quizzically upward at the circling digit. Dean then waved the piece of paper with 'Q&A' at its top. "And we've got a list of top ten questions you wanted answered that we're gonna go through."

Castiel was accustomed to tiptoeing around whenever Dean was doing a video unless indicated he could bang around all he wanted. So he was a little taken aback when the paper was handed to him, Dean looking at him expectantly. While he slowly took it, he raised his eyebrows in inquiry.

"Read the first question," Dean coaxed, eyes twinkling.

"Oh, um, okay. 'Do you know why Dean hasn't done a video on Baby yet?'" At least the first one was easy.

"Yes, yes he does," Dean stated, folding his arms and giving his husband a somewhat irritated look.

Castiel met it with an exasperated expression of his own. "Really? We've been over this, Dean."

"They don't know that," the taller man argued, waving at the camera.

Apparently annoyance was a decent cure for stage fright. Castiel faced the lens and stated, "He hasn't posted a video on the Impala yet because he is incapable of making it concise."

"Baby deserves better than concise," his husband protested.

"He has recorded videos on Baby before," Castiel continued, ignoring him and focusing on the camera. "But the shortest one was over an hour long. Since he insists on making it a single documentary and not breaking it up into parts nothing will be posted until he get can get it down to at least forty-five minutes."

"And that ties into question number three. 'Do you have any say in the videos?'."

Castiel spared a glance for the paper his husband pointed to. "No, not really."

"Not true," Dean argued. "I bounce ideas off you. You sit through every one of my videos to make sure I don't make an ass of myself when I post something." Glancing at the lens he added, "And when I need a camera man who do you think does all the filming?"

Castiel shrugged uncomfortably. "I enjoy being a part of the process."

"Yeah, and you're steadier with the camera than Sam was. They've noticed."

"They have?"

"I'll show you the comments later. Trust me, they've noticed."

Feeling his face warm, Castiel ducked his head and looked down at the paper. "Um, 'Where are you from?' I was born in Pontiac, Illinois."

"That's the easiest one."

He was quite aware. "'Where did you two meet?'," he read slowly.

 _"That_ is a funny story," Dean began.

Castiel dropped the paper onto the desk. "No it is not. _You_ think it's funny."

"How many times do I have to tell you it was an accident," Dean complained.

"It doesn't matter if it was an accident," Castiel shot back. "I spent weeks working on that research paper, Dean. Weeks."

"It's not my fault you didn't backup."

"I did! Gabriel drowned my backup USB's the day before you-"

"Wait, wait, back up. Start from the beginning. They want the full story."

Reminded of their audience, Castiel cleared his throat and tried to act like the mature adult he was. "It was ten years ago, six months."

"You remember it that exact?"

"I remember the due date for that paper you ruined."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Continue."

"I was in the library, I was on the top floor since it was less crowded, working on a research paper. I had this table that was in the far corner, specifically so I would be left alone. Then someone decides it would be a great idea to come over and ask me if I was going to leave anytime soon."

"In my defense, it was one in the morning, it was finals season, and it was my fifth shot of red-eye," Dean promised, holding up his hand in mock oath.

Castiel leaned back, folding his arms. "I told him no and to please leave me alone. He refused and asked me what my name was."

"You shouldn't have told me, that was your mistake," his husband challenged.

"Agreed. But the fact is I did tell you. When you asked just what kind of a name was Castiel I explained that it was the name of an angel and my father was a theology professor."

Dean snorted. "Found out later him and all his brothers got named after angels. There's you, Gabriel, Michael, and Lucifer."

"Who is much more tolerable than his namesake," Castiel stated firmly. "But that's not one of the questions. As I was saying, your highly caffeinated and sleep-deprived mind decided it would be a wonderful idea to ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven."

"Not my best line, I'll admit, but you had an awesome comeback."

"Then why is it you seemed disturbed?"

"Because no one's ever had that reaction before." Turning his full attention to the camera he explained, "Without missing a beat he looked me straight in the eye and said, 'No, but I did sustain serious injury when I crawled out of hell.' And if I was so disturbed, why didn't I take longer to respond?"

"That didn't count."

"It totally counts! Comment down below, tell him 'That's why you're so hot' is the only real response to that."

"You could have done better."

"Okay so now you're hating on my pickup lines?"

"I didn't marry you because of your smooth pickup lines."

Dean clutched at his chest, a strained and highly wounded look on his face.

Choosing to ignore his husband's antics, Castiel continued, "I informed him I had neither the time nor the interest and requested he leave me alone."

That earned a snort. "How about 'Piss off Casanova, I'm busy.' Sound familiar?"

Feeling heat rise to his face Castiel stated, "You weren't the only one who was sleep deprived." He hesitated, then asked, "Are you going to edit that out?"

"Nope."

Grimacing, Castiel returned to the story. "So he set his coffee cup on the table, right next to my computer. Bear in mind there wasn't any food or drink allowed beyond the second floor of the library."

"Finals season, Cas. Everybody was drinking coffee or energy drinks or both."

"It was almost full and you set it next to my computer. I have no idea why you did, I hadn't given any indication I wanted you to hang around. He keeps talking to me, won't leave me alone. Then he askes me what I'm working on and reaches for my computer, and he knocks over the coffee. It spilled all over the keyboard, went into every nook and cranny."

"In like three seconds the whole thing was fried," Dean chuckled.

"Yes, my laptop was fried. All my work was gone. Toast. Because of you. I got angry and told you to leave me alone. Forcefully."

"And I felt kinda bad, so I did."

"Unfortunately that wasn't the last time I'd see him there."

"What do you mean unfortunately?" Dean sounded a little hurt at that.

"At the time I thought it was unfortunate. Now I don't," Castiel assured him, squeezing his arm. "It was the next semester, in January, we had this group assignment. I'd booked one of the study rooms in advance so we could meet before we had any other assignments to deal with. Those rooms were very illusive, even early in the semester. But when we get there he shows up with another group from a different class."

"He still blames me for that too. Like it's my fault they double booked."

Castiel glared at him. "No, they didn't double book. I booked that space eight days in advance. The day before that time slot you waltzed in and flirted with the student working the desk to get that time. She simply didn't inform me that we no longer had that slot. No one did."

"You didn't have to get that upset about it."

"The only reason I got an extension on the term paper was because my professor was sympathetic when I showed her my drowned laptop. At the time I was not kindly disposed to you. So yes I got a little…upset."

Dean started laughing. "We started arguing. It got heated, it got loud. They called security to escort us out. We got banned from the university library. You think they've got our mugshots somewhere in there still?"

"I hope not," Castiel groaned, rubbing his temples. "But they said if we visited one of the counselors there wouldn't be any marks on our academic records."

"So he drags my ass to these sessions for three weeks."

"Because one of us had a clean record to maintain."

"It worked out, though," Dean protested. "By the end of it you didn't hate me anymore. You agreed to a date."

"I agreed to get coffee with you in hopes you'd grow tired of your pursuits."

"Admit it. I was growing on you."

"You were…tolerable."

"If you say so, babe."

Rolling his eyes and hoping he wasn't blushing as deep as he thought he was, Castiel looked down at the list again. "'Do you have any siblings?'. I think you already answered that."

"Yeah, but not with any real detail."

"I have three brothers, what more detail do they need?"

"How about they're all older? Even Gabriel."

"Gabriel's only older by twelve minutes."

"See? He's got a twin."

"Fraternal twin. We're nothing alike, we don't even look alike."

"They're not, trust me," Dean agreed solemnly.

"Uh, 'How long have you been married?'. Eight years. It will be nine in September."

"I love how you didn't have to think about that."

Castiel blinked at him owlishly. "Why would I?"

"No reason, uh, next question?"

"'What are your hobbies?'. Um, I enjoy bees."

"Enjoy? Come on, Cas, be honest."

"I am," Castiel protested. "I really enjoy bees. I have three bee boxes in our backyard."

"Which the neighbors hate."

"I don't see why. They're pollinating their beloved flowerbeds and none of them are allergic."

"Some people just don't like bees. You're the only person I've ever met who likes 'em."

Choosing to ignore this argument, as usual, Castiel turned back to the original question. "I also enjoy reading and hiking."

"Those are your normal hobbies. I still can't believe I let you talk me into getting those damn bee boxes. I have to wear one of those suits every time I mow the lawn."

"I smoke them so you don't have to," Castiel protested. "You're the one who still chooses to wear the suit."

"What if some of 'em were out on a pollen run and missed the smoke?"

"You do realize when I first asked you could have said no. I could have found an alternative."

"No I couldn't. You've wanted to keep bees since you were a little kid. When you brought it up you have a freaking PowerPoint prepared. And we do sell the honey."

"We sell what you don't eat. Considering how much you complain you love their honey."

"Hey, that honey is awesome."

Castiel pointedly studied the list. "'Who is your best friend?'." Glancing briefly up at the camera he stated, "I married him."

"Really?"

"Yes." He didn't think much about it, but when he glanced up at Dean his husband was smiling and blushing. "Something wrong?"

"Nope, nothing. Next question?"

"'Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket?' No, I have not."

"You don't gatta sound all superior about it."

"One of us should have a good driving record, Dean. Clearly that will not be you." Making eye contact with the camera he stated, "Not all of the ticket stories are funny so they don't get told."

"Really?"

"There is a reason your car insurance is so much more expensive than mine." And it wasn't simply because his car was newer and had all the modern safety features, like seatbelts and airbags.

"Last question?"

"Just because you change the subject doesn't change the facts."

"I know. Last question?"

"'What was your first impression of Dean?' Are you sure you want me to answer this?"

"Yeah, sure. If you want I'll tell 'em my first impression of you."

Castiel worried his lip, then admitted slowly, "My first impression of you was that you were exactly the sort of person I found intolerable. You were cocky, arrogant, brash…the fact that you didn't exactly make a glowing first or second impression didn't help. But as you might have noticed, you've grown on me."

Dean didn't seem to take offense, chuckling quietly. "Don't get me wrong, you were cute and all, but you were also kinda pious, kinda self-righteous."

"If you thought I was pious, why did you ask me out?"

"Like I said, you were cute. And I'd never met someone besides Sam who argued with me like that."

"You liked that I argued. Really? How is this just now coming up?"

"No one's ever asked before," Dean pointed out with a shrug.

"Why did you make this one of the questions if your first impression of me was questionable?"

"I was curious. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Grinning, Dean turned back to the camera. "Alright, that's all ten questions. If you want to see more just post questions you'd like answered down below- "

"More?" Castiel protested, interrupting him. "I agreed to one video, Dean, not a series."

"Come on, Cas, a series could be fun."

"No, your cooking series is fun," Castiel corrected. "And I agreed to help you with that voluntarily."

"Let them be the judge of that," his husband stated, motioning to the camera. "And you're totally at liberty to say no."

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Because I know what the answer's going to be!"

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. I've been watching you do this for long enough to know what the outcome will be." He didn't add that he disliked the idea of letting Dean's work suffer simply because he decided not to comply to his viewer's wishes.

"So, prove me wrong."

Castiel scowled at him. "At least have the decency to mention something like this to me before you put it on the internet next time."

"So there's gonna be a next time!" Beaming broadly, Dean gave the camera a thumbs-up. "If you like what you see, like, comment, and subscribe down below. Especially if you want to see more of my awesome hubby. Stay safe, Gotham!"

As soon as the camera was off Castiel demanded, "Why didn't you mention the prospect of more before we started the video?"

Dean shrugged, giving him an innocent look. "It didn't occur to me before we started. But it was going really good so I figured, what the hell? I couldn't exactly ask you on camera."

"Then ask me and edit it out."

"You lose a lot of flow if things are all clipped together. Sometimes you can't help it, but I try to keep everything going. You know that."

"I'm aware. But- "

"Cas, did you have fun?"

For a moment Castiel stared at him owlishly. "I…suppose it wasn't an _unpleasant_ experience."

A smile began to crawl up Dean's face as he took down the camera. "Admit it, you had fun. Watch over it with me after I'm done editing, alright?"

"Don't I usually do that?"

"Yeah, but I think it'll be different this time."

"How?"

"You'll see."

Shaking his head, Castiel stood and left his husband to his editing. Surely it wouldn't be that popular, right?

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	2. VOL 2

**The mention of a series was just if this went over well, and even then it was a maybe. This was truly meant to be a one-shot. I had no idea it would be so popular. But due to numerous requests and remarkable excitement, I've decided to keep it running.**

 **I am open to question requests! I will only use them if I feel I can do them justice but I love to hear from my readers!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Castiel spared a glance for the clock. He had a minute, maybe less before the bell went off and his class fled. "Anymore questions?"

Eight hands went up. He sighed, bracing his palms on his desk. This was his last class of the day, as soon as sixth period ended they could all go home. "Questions about the test you will be having on Monday and not on anything else."

All eight hands went down. As had happened when he'd made that same clarification every other period. You would think they'd take it more seriously, considering it was the last test before school ended for the year. Thankfully the bell went off before his irritation could show, and he sank down into his desk chair with a sigh. He began packing up his things for the weekend, having no reason to stick around. Not today, anyway.

"Mr. Novak?"

He paused, looking up as he put completed extra credit papers into a shoulder bag. "Yes, Krissy?" She was in his second period, and not among the people who generally stopped by when class wasn't in session.

"Can I make a request?"

A frown knit his brow. "What sort of request?"

It was then he noticed a group of about half a dozen girls and at least one teacher outside his door, all peering in with looks of anticipation. His heart sank, even as he turned his attention back to Krissy. She was a bright girl, her problem was simply that she didn't apply herself as often as she could. But it seemed she'd finally found something she was willing to put her full effort into.

"A question that we all wanna know. Or it could be a story video, either way."

Castiel raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"If you two fought so much when you first met, why'd you get married like a year later?"

"A year and nine months," one of their spectators hissed.

Castiel shot them an irritated look. "This should not be your greatest concern at this time. You have a final, remember?"

"Yeah, but this is important too."

"I beg to differ." Castiel refocused on stowing his things, wiping off the white board and shutting down his computer. "I have said this before and I will say it again, if you have requests for Dean you may send them in the usual fashion. I am here to teach you, not to be a direct conduit to Impala67."

"Come on, please?" Krissy urged. "It's one of the top running questions in the polls but he hasn't confirmed whether or not it'll be in the next video."

Castiel shrugged into his trench coat, glancing around to make sure he'd taken care of everything that couldn't be left until Monday. "You realize it might be a while before a video is even completed?"

"What? Why not?"

"We're the ones studying for a dozen tests," one of the hovering students complained.

"It's five at best, Alex," Castiel informed her.

"Believe it or not we are equally busy. I have extra credit to grade and calculate in. I have three different tests to make. Not to mention the regular human things I have to keep up with." He made sure his wallet, phone, and keys were in his pockets. "If you need academic aid I'm more than happy to stay as long as you need. But if that's all I have errands to run."

Krissy folded her arms, looking very put out, but left his classroom nonetheless. The others left, including a few sheepish coworkers. Castiel shouldered his bag, locking the room on his way out. If anyone else needed anything they could email him, and he'd answer. But until then, he really did have things to do.

As he made his way out to his car Castiel was stopped by several people, but he didn't mind much. Four of the five inquiries were work or test-subject related. Even so he heaved a sigh when he was behind the wheel, letting his head tip back once he'd turned on the AC full blast. It was early June, and even though they weren't quite to summer break yet his car was steamy by the time he got to it in the afternoons.

Attaching a Bluetooth to one ear, Castiel dialed Dean's cell and put his car into reverse. He was pulling out into the flow of departing traffic when Dean picked up. "Hey, what's up?"

"I'm leaving the school. Is there anything you need at the grocery store while I'm out?"

"Uh, hang on. You going by there already?"

"Yes, we're out of peanut butter." Normally Dean did the grocery shopping, simply because he also did the cooking. If Castiel was dispatched alone then he would inevitably get the wrong amount, or the wrong brand, or forget things. So he was generally happy to leave it to his husband.

"Right, right. Looks like we're good, but if you could get some pie while you're there that'd be awesome."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Of course."

"Where else are you going, anyhow? You mentioned a bunch of errands."

"I need to go by the hardware store, we need more twine and Mason jars. I need to pick up a birthday card you will also need to sign so we can send it off tomorrow."

"Whose birthday?"

"Jo's, remember? Your sister? The one who will be turning twenty-five next week?"

"I knew that. Totally remembered. Uh, can you pick her up a gift card too?"

"I already was," Castiel sighed. "Amazon?"

"Yeah. And Starbucks. Still can't believe she turned into one of those fancy caffeine addicts."

"She's in nursing school, Dean. Be happy caffeine and expensive coffee is all she's getting addicted to."

"If you say so," his husband grumbled.

"Anything else?"

"No, don't think so. You hitting anyplace else?"

"Car wash."

"I can wash your car," Dean protested.

"I know, but this is easier. And you don't wax my tires."

"I could."

"The type of video is still under negotiation but you will have work to do this weekend. When will you have time to do that?"

"Monday."

"I have to drive to work on Monday."

"Take Baby."

Castiel raised his eyebrows. While he'd driven Baby before, it was a rarely-seen event. He had no serious attachment to driving in general, so he didn't much care that Dean was so possessive over his beloved Impala. As far as he knew he and Sam were the only people Dean would give the keys up to with only token reluctance.

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure."

"You would let me drive the Impala to school and back? On roads heavily populated by teenage drivers?"

There was a brief hesitation before he got a slightly less enthusiastic, "Absolutely."

Castiel frowned slightly. He could tell something was off, but now wasn't the time to pursue it. He was on the road during rush hour, and he'd found it was best to argue with people face-to-face. You picked up on more that way.

"Fine. I'll skip the car wash. See you at home?"

"Sure thing, babe. Drive safe."

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

Castiel trudged in through the front door, tossing his keys into the nearby bowl and absently twisting the deadbolt. He let his shoulder bag slide off one arm onto the floor by the wall, making his way to the kitchen. He got halfway there before Dean slid out, intercepting him with a broad grin.

"Hey, Cas. How was your day?"

"Long."

"Remember the pie?" he asked, taking some of the bags from Castiel's hands.

"Yes, I remembered the pie. They only had blueberry….."

Castiel trailed off as he reached the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't what he was seeing. He'd noticed the smell of cooking food, sure, but he hadn't thought about just what it was he was smelling.

Their kitchen table was set for two, there was even a small candle burning in the table's center. A bottle of wine had been opened, Castiel's favorite kind, a glass of it sitting by one place, a beer by the other. Two covered dishes rested on the stove eyes, a basket of sliced bread covered in cheeses, garlic, and herbs rested on the table.

"You always have a lot to deal with near the end of the year. Figured you could use a treat," Dean was saying, setting bags on the counter.

Castiel carefully lowered the bag of supplies from the hardware store onto the floor against one wall, out of the way. "You didn't have to. Haven't they been busy at the shop?"

"Nah, it hasn't been that bad," Dean waved it off.

He had set down the small bag of various cards when he turned in time to see Dean take the cover off the first dish. Castiel froze, trench coat off one shoulder. "You made tortellini?"

Dean stepped behind him, taking the trench coat off and tossing it over a bar stool. "Ricotta and Italian sausage tortellini in mushroom sauce."

Generally Castiel's preferences were simple. He liked PB&J's and burgers and macaroni-and-cheese. That's not to say he didn't like Dean's concoctions in the kitchen, but his tastes were hardly complex. There were very few exceptions to this. Among them were the handmade pasta Dean had experimented with five years ago. Castiel absolutely loved it, especially in the mushroom sauce, but it took half an age to make and it was hardly the cheapest recipe in Dean's repertoire, so it didn't get made often.

Pointing to the second dish Dean added, "And peach cobbler for desert. There's vanilla ice-cream in the freezer."

Castiel stared at the food for a long minute, then slowly looked up at his husband. "But it's not my birthday. Or our anniversary. Did I miss something?"

Dean just smiled, scooping up tortellini onto two plates. "Nah, just figured you could use a treat."

It wasn't until he was drying his hands after scrubbing them in the sink that it clicked for Castiel. Even then he wasn't mad. How could he be?

He waited until halfway through their delicious meal in a romantic atmosphere to ask, "So what questions are they requesting?"

Dean's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "Huh?"

"The questions for the next video. I'm afraid we'll have to explain why our wedding so closely followed our meeting. I was ambushed after class today. Apparently it's a very highly desired question by a significant portion of your female audience."

Fork still hovering between plate and mouth, Dean asked innocently, "What brought that on? And what do you mean they ambushed you?"

After relaying the incident led by Krissy, Castiel took a sip of his wine and stated, "I am very grateful you made this meal, and I'm enjoying the evening you took the time to arrange. But the last time you prepared this outside of a designated special occasion was after my Cadillac died."

"Hey, you're perfectly happy with your new wheels. What'd I tell you?"

Castiel inclined his head. "Yes, I'm aware. But that's not the point. It's been two weeks, and I'm surprised you haven't brought it up sooner. Surprised and…impressed, I suppose."

"Uh, thanks?"

Lips twitching in amusement, popping some cheese-laden bread into his mouth, Castiel explained, "I do keep an eye on your feeds. The response was far more enthusiastic than I anticipated, and I have to clarify when I ask if there are any questions that they need to be related to the current subject I'm teaching."

Dean finally took his bite, a cocky grin gracing his face. "Seriously?"

"Yes. It can be quite irritating in the moment but very amusing in hindsight."

Chuckling, Dean took a swing of his beer. "Awesome."

Castiel hummed, forking the last tortellini on his plate into his mouth. "I will admit it's out of my comfort zone, but all things considered I'd be willing to pursue a series."

"That's not why I did this but that's awesome."

"Really? Seven years and there has never been a special meal when the school year is ending. Though if you were to make tortellini every time you want me to participate on the screen side of a video I wouldn't complain."

Dean coughed on his beer. "Think you'd settle for steaks or something?"

Castiel pretended to think about it. "I suppose. If you make them with garlic mashed potatoes."

"Done. 'Cause you are freaken' popular."

"Did that first video _really_ get a quarter of a million hits within twenty-four hours?"

"Nope. More like half a million. Two-hundred thousand and sixty hits," Dean corrected. "Between the followers, subscribers, shares, re-tweets, and various media platforms, yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Cas, they loved you. Didn't you see the jump in subscribers?"

"No," Castiel admitted, toying with his wine glass.

"I knew it'd be good but I didn't think it'd explode like this," Dean admitted. "And it's been two weeks, so….you up for another one tomorrow morning?"

"I take it you're prepared a list of questions?"

"Yeah, they're in my office."

"You recall the one my students have been particularly eager to have answered?"

Dean smiled wryly. "It's the last one on the list. I capped it at ten, figured that'd be a good number to stick to for now."

Castiel nodded his agreement, using some of the bread to mop up what little mushroom sauce remained. "Could we do it in the morning? That way you'd have time to edit and I can start putting honey into jars."

"My morning or your morning?"

"My morning."

Dean grimaced, but didn't argue. Instead he moved on to, "How'd you feel about doing a video the next time we go on a hike?"

Castiel considered that, then decided, "Yakitori."

"Done."

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

"What's up world? Your friendly neighborhood Batman is back with volume two of my awesome new series. You guys loved him so much he agreed to make a second appearance. Ain't that right?"

Castiel gave his husband a blank look. "I suppose."

Dean's arms flopped into his lap as he gave his husband an exasperated look. "Really?"

"What?"

"You wanna show some enthusiasm?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" he asked innocently, sipping his coffee. Per Dean's suggested he was wearing basketball shorts this time, paired with a t-shirt inscribed with ' _Bazinga!_ '. He'd tried to smooth out his ruffled hair after he'd showered, but Dean had simply ruffled it up again. To top off the image that so starkly contrasted the persona he held up at work, the mug he was currently using was decorated after the marauder's map and proclaimed ' _I solemnly swear I am up to no good._ ' Supposedly showing his personality a little more would further endear him to Dean's viewers.

"Yeah, right. Okay, so we've got another ten questions we're gonna go through. These were taken from the most popular suggestions, including one I'm told Cas here was nagged about personally. Yeah, I know, there's a lot more, but let's take it in stride. Also before I forget, tune in tomorrow morning for my first shot at a Live Stream. Me and Cas finally haggled out an arrangement for a video with Baby."

Castiel smiled fondly, sipping his coffee and patting Dean's shoulder. His husband was beaming broadly, practically giddy. Turning back to the camera he stated solemnly, "Yes, he is very excited." Excited enough to bribe him with his favorite meal followed by some truly thorough lovemaking.

"Aren't you?"

"I'm excited that it will no longer be a reoccurring issue."

Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation, passing him the notebook sheet of written questions. "First one, Cas."

"'Who drives and who gives directions?'," Castiel read. Frowning at the camera, he stated, "Obviously Dean drives most of the time, unless he's too tired or otherwise incapacitated. I provide directions if necessary."

"Every single time we're going to someplace new you get obsessed with that GPS app," Dean added. "You micromanage every little detail."

"To ensure we don't get lost. I do the same when I'm driving on my own."

"Yeah, but you don't have my awesome sense of direction."

"If your sense of direction is truly 'awesome', then why is it the last time I allowed you to navigate we spent five hours trying to get out of the Sioux Falls Halloween corn maze?"

"That doesn't count," Dean protested.

"The longest I've taken to get us out is out is two hours."

Making a face, Dean turned to the camera. "Every year they turn one of the corn fields into a maze for Halloween. It's three square miles of dense, ten-foot-tall corn stalks. They give you red flashlights to wave around so they can come get you when you give up. At least I got us out."

"After five hours. Five very long hours."

"Alright, next question! 'Who's the neat freak?'," Dean read loudly.

"You, I think."

"Me?"

"Yes. You get very upset if clothes don't make it all the way into the laundry hamper, you insist on cleaning the house once a week, if I leave dishes around the sink without rinsing them first you rant about-"

"Okay, okay, they get the point. So what, I like things clean?"

"Is it really necessary to put on clean sheets every day?"

"Yes. And I'm the one washing them so I don't see why you're complaining."

"It's not so much a complaint as it is an observation of something that can be occasionally irritating. Yet it seems to require too much effort for your bottle caps to make it all the way into the trashcan."

"Uh-huh. Next one?"

"'Who remembers important dates/events?'," Castiel read.

"That'd be you."

"I never really thought about it," Castiel admitted.

"Dude, you remember the exact date of when we met, when we got married, you remember birthdays, anniversaries, random holidays. You'd forget to tie your shoes if you didn't trip over the laces, but you can tell me when Pi Day is. And yes there is such a day."

"Of course, March fourteenth," Castiel recalled. "Considering it was meant to celebrate the number you insist on celebrating it with the desert."

"I rest my case. Next?"

"'Who hogs the blanket/bed?'. You do."

"Hold on, I don't hog the blankets. You're the one who likes to wrap yourself up like a burrito."

Castiel huffed, folding his arms. "Because you hog the bed. By the time you're all sprawled out the only room left is just enough for a burrito. I like being warm."

"So I hog the bed and you hog the blankets?"

"Agreed."

"Fine. 'Who sings with the radio/in the shower?'."

"You do."

A blush climbed Dean's face. "I do not."

"You sing along to your music when you're in a good mood," Castiel insisted. "It's not a bad thing. Plenty of people do it. It's endearing."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You said I sounded like a mule in labor."

"When you're not partially drowned out by whatever song you're singing along with," Castiel admitted. "I still love you, even if your rendition of _Juke Box Hero_ is reminiscent of a feline's death wail."

Face reddening, Dean thrust the list at him, grumbling, "Read the next question already."

"'Who texts with perfect grammar and who uses shorthand and numbers for letters?'."

"I wouldn't say perfect grammar," Dean admitted. "But you like to use every shorthand in the book."

"What's wrong with that? It's more efficient and you still know what I mean."

"Efficient? This from the guy who takes his sweet time deciding which emojis to use."

"I like emojis," Castiel protested. "They're fun and they help drive the point home. So do gifs."

"But do you really need to use 'em with _every_ text?"

"If at all possible. It's one of the perks of texting."

"If you say so. 'Who makes the bad puns?'. Also you."

"I do not," Castiel protested indignantly.

"Yeah you do. At every freaken' opportunity. Plus you own every single "Let's taco 'bout it" and "Oh Whale" t-shirt ever made."

"They're humorous plays on words," he defended with a huff. "What's not to like?"

"Let's just say I tolerate them like you tolerate my crappy singing."

Castiel was still wondering if he was okay with this when Dean moved on to the next question. "'Who mows the lawn?'. That's me, but he does everything else."

"Not exactly. You also use the weed eater and edger and the blower."

"Yeah, but you guys haven't seen our yard," Dean informed the camera. "He's got these gardenia bushes growing in front of our house, which smell awesome by the way. All trimmed and manicured-looking. Our backyard is this freaken' bee's paradise. How many types of flower do you have back there again?"

"It depends on the season but- "

"Total."

After a moment's consideration Castiel decided, "eight, but they don't bloom all at once. I'm thinking about adding lilacs."

"Eight types of flower and counting, plus the gardenia bushes," Dean concluded. "They all have these designated beds, choreographed around the whole yard. And if I get one when I'm mowing the lawn, there's hell to pay."

Castiel gave him a stricken look. "Of course there's hell to pay! I work very hard to keep them all healthy and thriving. They don't deserve to die simply because you're careless."

"Damn it, Cas, it only happened once. It was an honest mistake."

He sat down his coffee mug so he could fold his arms. "I'd just gotten that particular petunia to perk up. She was going to live and you murdered her."

Dean groaned. "It was a flower, Cas. A single st-

"If you say 'stupid flower' one more time so help me-

"That was three years ago! You can't still be pissed."

Rather than answer Castiel simply glared at his husband, who gave the camera an exasperated look. "One flower, and I'm in the doghouse for a week. And here I was trying to detail how good a job you do on a nirvana for those damn bees."

"Thank you. I would be appreciative if you would display your admiration by not killing anymore of them."

Rolling his eyes, Dean turned his attention to the list. "'Where did you go on your honeymoon?'"

Castiel frowned slightly, head tilting. "Which one?"

"I figured they were talking about the first one, but I was gonna mention the second one." When Castiel nodded in agreement, Dean gave the lens his full attention. "See, when we got married we were both still in school. We were both working on our masters, we were sharing this little one-bedroom apartment, we were eating Ramen three nights a week. Getting cheap wedding bands was a strain on the budget, never mind a honeymoon."

"The only reason we were able to afford what we did was because neither of us wanted a wedding," Castiel added. "We simply went to the courthouse and were witnessed by family members and a few close friends."

A distant look crossed Dean's face. "Yeah. A dozen people, tops. Not counting the judge. Anyway, we could only afford to take a week off work, and we couldn't go very far, so we just drove for a few hundred miles until we got to this tiny town in Colorado. I'm talking one stoplight, a population of a few thousand people. But it had this one hotel with a great view. We booked a room for a week and spent the whole time there. Either locked in or checking out the scenery."

"Which is beautiful, if you haven't seen it," Castiel chipped in.

"Very," Dean agreed. "We had a great time and all, but a few years ago when we could afford it we decided we wanted to splurge on a second honeymoon."

"We disagreed on the term 'splurge', since mine generally involved us flying somewhere," Castiel put in. "And I'm sure by now you're all aware of how Dean feels about planes."

"I agreed to go anywhere and do anything so long as I didn't have to get on one of those flying death traps," Dean reminded him. "And we didn't."

"If any of my past students are watching this, this is why I took two months off of work three years ago."

"We took this five-day road trip down to Port Canaveral, went on a seven-day Caribbean cruise, then spent seven days in Disney World. Let me tell you, even when you're an adult that's still the happiest place on earth."

Castiel inclined his head. "It is. Then we took the long way home, circled up the east coast, spend a few nights in New York City, then made our way back to South Dakota. But by the time we got home we were exhausted. Everything was wonderful, the best second honeymoon a person could ask for but…."

"We'd been doing and doing for over a month at that point. We were beat," Dean admitted. "So we spent the last two weeks of our time off putting our feet up and leaving the house as little as possible."

"I didn't realize so many food places in town delivered until then," Castiel mused.

"Neither did I," Dean admitted sheepishly. "That was back before Netflix had instant, so we only left a few times to hit up Blockbuster or Red Box. We made a supply run right after we got home so we wouldn't run out of milk or toilet paper, then had two of the laziest weeks we could manage. We need to do that again at some point. It's very therapeutic. And bonding."

"Agreed," Castiel stated, smiling fondly.

Dean returned the smile, then ducked his head and cleared his throat. "Last question. 'Why did you get married so soon after you met if you fought at first sight?'."

Castiel tilted his head, frowning slightly. "I know they want to know, but I fail to understand their enthusiasm."

"Yeah, well, it's the nature of the beast. How much did we talk about last time?"

"I believe it was mentioned you convinced me to accompany you to a coffee date after our last therapy session," Castiel recalled.

"That's right. And it didn't go too bad."

"No," Castiel admitted. "If memory serves we had a surprisingly stimulating conversation."

"So stimulating it was _your_ idea to exchange numbers," Dean reminded him, grinning.

"It seemed prudent. You were growing on me and I didn't know when we would both be able to get away enough for another meeting."

"Texting was just starting to get big, and we ended up doing a lot of that," Dean admitted. "We'd send a few back and forth every day, sometimes we'd meet up if we were eating at the dinning halls at the same time."

"Yes, but when at all possible Friday's were designated date days. Saturday, if something came up."

"It was never anything big. Usually we'd see a movie or go mini-golfing or something and grab dinner."

"I like those dates," Castiel recalled. "They were simple. Things were simpler. I got to spend time with you, we each had each other's undivided attention."

"We still argued," Dean remembered, grinning. "A few times we got this close to getting asked to leave the golf course because we'd get into a shouting match over how accurately the points were being kept."

Smiling fondly Castiel added, "Somehow there were fewer complaints from the bowling alley."

"Probably because we could buy beer there."

"Probably. Gas prices weren't much better then but we did drive a lot. Usually in Baby, even though my car got better millage."

"A minor fault in an otherwise perfectly awesome car," Dean defended.

Ignoring this, Castiel went on, "I wouldn't call it going steady, per say, but we weren't seeing anybody else those first few months. Then when I got back from spring break you started avoiding me."

Dean grimaced at the reminder, shifting uncomfortably. "Yeah. See, my old man never really…he didn't know about me liking other guys. I wanted to keep it that way. While I was home that year he went on this tangent, and I let it get to me. Cas had to track me down and knock some sense into me."

"Literally. I may or may not have hit him over the head with a two-inch-thick hardback textbook."

Wincing, Dean rubbed the side of his skull. "I kinda deserved it. He came over after class one day, we talked, I said some things I regretted almost immediately, and he threw a big-ass book at my head."

"I was, um, out of line."

"So was I. You didn't deserve any of what I said to you. I didn't…whether dad was right or wrong, I liked having you in my life. I cared about you. Enough that, at the time, I figured that as long as he never found out things would be fine."

"You were perceptive enough to inform me as to why you'd made your sudden change in behavior," Castiel elaborated, glancing at the camera. "Afterward I tried to be more patient."

Dean made a face. "It's ass-backwards, though. I mean come on, you're the one with this super-strict Catholic family. Stereotypically speaking your family should have been the one with a problem with your being gay."

To that Castiel could only shrug. "My brothers took more issue with it than my parents. Admittedly there are several family members who still refuse to speak to me, but then I never liked them much anyway. My mother was always supportive, but I don't think she was truly enthusiastic until she met my choice of life-partner. My father is highly…logical. I think he took more issue with the fact I chose a career path away from theology or the pulpit than he did with my sexuality."

"It probably helped that Gabriel came out about the same time," Dean reasoned. "One twin swung the wrong way and the other swung both ways."

"I suppose. But aside from your father everyone else seemed supportive of you," Castiel reminded him.

A weary smile graced Dean's face. "Yeah, they are. And they love you."

Castiel inclined his head, feeling his face heat. "Are we getting off track?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah. Sorry. Uh, so we kept 'dating', only now I called it dating. When school let out for the summer I asked him to take a road trip with me, thought it'd be a good bonding experience. The plan was we'd go see Sammy in Palo Alto, since he was taking some summer classes after freshman year. Figured we'd hit a few highlights along the way, maybe spend a few days in Vegas."

"It was nice to get away," Castiel mused. "Though I would have appreciated it if you had mentioned we would be taking all the backroads rather than the interstate the whole way."

"Sometimes it's as much about the journey as it is the destination," Dean reminded him. "Admit it, you had fun."

"My complaint wasn't about the lack of fun, Dean. It was about the fact I didn't pack accordingly."

"But you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"Yes. If memory serves it was the first time you called me your boyfriend without prompting," Castiel recalled, smiling. "It was sweet. Though it would have been sweeter if I hadn't found out until after the fact you drove halfway across the country primarily so you wouldn't have to fly."

"This from the guy who waited until we were a thing for five months before telling me the reason you could never go out on Sunday night was because you went to mass."

"Fair enough," Castiel conceded.

"So we were halfway through Utah, and we started arguing. Again. Only this time it was big."

"I had misread the map, we were nowhere near where we needed to be. I blamed you for insisting on taking the questionably marked roads and not taking the interstate. You blamed me for being a poor navigator. We were hot, we were hungry since there hadn't been a place to buy food for the better part of a hundred miles, and we were tired. So I got out, I grabbed the smallest bag I'd brought, and I told him I would be hitchhiking home."

"And at the time I was pissed enough to let him," Dean admitted, shamefaced. "I got maybe three miles before I turned around again, doubled back to look for you. We'd been in this stretch of desert, I'd cooled down enough to realize he'd get heatstroke before he got picked up. But I went back four miles and couldn't find him. I tried calling him, he didn't pick up. There was nothing on that stretch, just sand and dirt and some tumbleweeds. I…kinda freaked."

Castiel set aside his cold coffee, smiling patiently at his husband. "He went to the local cops, of which there weren't many by the way, and talked them into something of a manhunt. They then spent the next six hours frantically scouring the countryside for me, or what might be left of me. Later on they brought in several state troopers."

"Yeah. Meanwhile you were having the time of your freaken' life."

"I would hardly call it that," Castiel snorted. Focusing on the lens again he explained, "I'd been walking for maybe ten minutes when this bus came along. It was shuttling a Baptist choir group home from some sort of gospel music festival in California. The driver was nice enough to invite me on board before I overheated. They were heading to Nebraska and offered to take me that far. I was in the back next to their very maternal choir leader, and she was very concerned as to why I seemed to be walking out of the desert by myself. Eventually I told her. At first it was just enough to for her to get the idea, but then she informed me that I would not be allowed off the bus until I explained just what was weighing on me. It was a little easier to do once she told me that the very nice driver was her wife."

"Leave it to you to get picked up by the only lesbian church leaders in God knows how many miles," Dean mused, shaking his head.

"They were very kind, as well as helpful," Castiel reminded him. "They still send us Christmas cards. Missouri had dragged the entirety of our story out of me just before we stopped for dinner. Then she asked me a few questions, and I didn't realize it until later but she was getting me to work things out on my own." After a moment's hesitation Castiel explained slowly, "We argued a lot. We still do, but not as much or as bad as we did initially."

"A relationship ain't healthy if you don't argue at all," Dean informed the camera firmly.

"Right. Missouri mentioned that. She also got me to realize why we were in a relationship in the first place. How it was able to get so far even though we fought so much. Pamela, her wife, seemed to think our relationship would be more successful if we got our heads out of our asses."

"Yeah. So while I'm tearing up the countryside trying to find this son of a bitch, he's sitting pretty in an airconditioned bus and eating burgers."

"I wouldn't call it sitting pretty. It was relationship counseling," Castiel argued. "Which we both benefited from. We owe them a great deal. They even gave me quarters for a payphone."

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This guy let his freaken' phone die. That's why he didn't pick up when I tried calling him."

"I forgot," Castiel protested. "We weren't quite so cellular reliant in those days. I didn't know you'd change your mind so quickly. Nor did I have a clue you were so worried. How was I to know you'd started a full fledged manhunt?"

Dean gave the lens his best, weariest expression, pointing a finger at his husband. "This guy calls me an hour after sundown, on a payphone, and you know what I get? 'Hello'. That's it. No 'I'm alive', no 'I got kidnapped by hippies'. Just 'Hello, Dean. Where are you?'" He mimicked Castiel's deeper tones when he said it.

"I apologized for worrying him and told him where I was. If the police hadn't already been informed of the situation he probably would have gotten arrested that night. Missouri and Pamela had to leave before they got there. I wish you could have met them in person."

"I pulled into this diner just sitting in the middle of nowhere, and he's standing outside the payphone like he's waiting for a bus."

Castiel smiled faintly. He remembered, all too well. Standing next to the worn doors of the phone booth, the night wind stirring his hair and coat. The Impala roaring up the road, her breaks shrieking as Dean whipped into the parking lot ten feet from where he stood, her headlights flashing across him. Her engine was still rumbling when Dean got out, running around her hood and sprinting across the short distance. Castiel remembered being surprised, taking a step back before Dean threw his arms around him. If they hadn't run into the phonebooth they would have both fallen to the asphalt, but instead they remained upright as Dean hugged him tight.

"Dean? Are you alright?"

For a moment he hadn't answered, and when he did his voice had cracked. "The hell, Cas? Thought something had happened to you."

He'd reached up, wrapping one arm around Dean and patting his back with the other. "I'm fine. Are _you_ alright?"

"I will be, so long as you don't do that again."

"Dean, I…I'm sorry for worrying you. And the things I said."

"So am I." Dean's eyes had been damp when he'd stepped back, gripping him by the shoulders. "You sure you're good?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Have you eaten yet?"

"What? No, I've been kinda busy."

Castiel had smiled, bending to pick up his bag with one hand and lacing their fingers together with the other. As he'd led Dean back towards the diner he'd said, "Come on. I'll explain while you eat. They have good pie."

"Cas?"

His head jerked up slightly. "Yes?"

Dean was frowning at him, worry in his eyes. "What's got you thinking?"

"Nothing. Just, remembering. You were saying?"

"You dragged me inside and wouldn't tell me what the hell you'd been up to until I ate."

"Of course. You're very grumpy when you're hungry. And they had good pie."

"Yes they did. The rest of the trip wasn't quite so bad."

"We did fight less after that," Castiel recalled. "We still disagreed, argued, but we were careful not to let it escalate. We still don't go to bed angry. Highly recommended for a successful relationship."

Dean cracked a smile. "Yeah, what he said. The rest of the trip went fine. Biggest problem we had was when we got lost in Palo Alto."

"Yes, but we didn't let it escalate. Spending some time with Sam was nice too. I'd never met him before then."

"Sammy thought you were awesome. When we left you had the baby brother stamp of approval. We circled back through Lawrence on the way home, saw mom and Jo while dad was at work. They liked you too."

Castiel nodded slowly. "Yes. I found it highly amusing that they had a running pool going on when you'd bring a boy home. Things were going well until….."

"Until dad came home early," Dean finished in a low voice. "I can edit that part out."

"My apologies."

"No, it's fine." Dean took a deep breath and managed a very convincing smile. "Yeah, mom won the pot. Your mom was classier about it. She heard you were bringing someone home and she baked a pie. Why couldn't you have inherited her baking skills?"

"You enjoy being in the kitchen too much," Castiel discounted. "Besides, that's how she bribes us into visiting during Thanksgiving."

"And she always gives us two for the road," Dean recalled with a dreamy expression.

"I believe that answers their question, don't you think?"

"I think so. It boiled down to us being idiots and each of us getting a kick in the ass. Only differences is it was me running all over that damn desert while you got relationship counseling from some Baptist lesbians."

"You benefited from their advice too," Castiel pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean grinned, shaking his head. His smile was genuine as he turned back to the camera. "That ended up being a little longer than I thought but I doubt you guys will complain. If you have any question requests feel free to re-tweet or comment down below. You know I love to hear from you guys. If you like what you see, like, comment, and subscribe down below. If you wanna see more Cas, he's gonna need all the encouragement you can give him. Stay safe, Gotham!"

Castiel waited until the camera was off to ask, "Really?"

"What?"

Folding his arms uncomfortably Castiel admitted, "I don't want comments asking for my presence on your videos."

"Why not?" Dean asked, sounding confused as he took down the camera.

"They're _your_ videos. I don't mind helping, but I feel like I've been taking over."

"Nah. I still have a few others going, remember? This one's special. If the interest fades I'll let you know. In the meantime I'm more worried about that hike video."

"Considering how much you complain you always manage quite well."

"I'm always sore the next day."

"You had the same complaints on our honeymoon."

Castiel grinned as Dean marched off in a supposed huff, pink in his cheeks. He picked up their mugs of cold coffee, carrying them into the kitchen. There was no doubt in his mind the Impala video would go over well, but he was curious to see how this one would go over, and even if he had demanded a bribe he really was looking forward to their hike next weekend.

* * *

 **For those who don't know, Yakitori is basically chicken kabobs over a charcoal fire.**

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* * *

It was always very odd, seeing his students outside of class. He knew they claimed it odd seeing a teacher in the outside world, but the feeling was mutual. Generally Castiel ignored them and they did the same, no problem. Sadly this was not the case today.

He was studying the selection of jelly's when someone asked carefully, "Castiel?"

Castiel closed his eyes slowly, taking a moment to ready himself for the fourth "we're big fans!" gush in the last two weeks. The first had been shortly after his initial appearance, when he'd been picking up plant food from the garden store after work. The other three had been over this last week. He'd gotten used to Dean getting the occasional attention, but he was still getting used to being included in that. Normally it didn't annoy him, but he was still adapting, and he'd been hoping to get through this particular shopping trip without interruption.

"Yes?" he asked, turning to face the speaker, face amicable.

He didn't recognize them, but the girl was wearing a 'Sioux Falls High Cross-Country' t-shirt. She had a big smile on her face and an equally beaming mother behind her. "Hey, um, sorry to bother you Mr. Novak. We, my mom and me, had just one quick question for you."

"Um, sure." The politeness was a refreshing change, and while she did seem somewhat giddy there was genuine regret at interrupting him.

"We were just wondering if you were going to keep doing videos with Dean? Because we just really love watching those but if you don't wanna do them anymore that's okay too." The second sentence came out all in a rush, and took a moment for Castiel to decipher.

When he did, though, he felt a blush warm his face. "I, um, don't know. I've just been taking it one video at a time. I suppose as long as a significant portion of his viewers enjoy my presence…."

He trailed off when he saw Dean round the isle's end with their cart, a knowing grin crossing his husband's face when he recognized the situation. "Meet some fans, Cas?"

Castiel was truly impressed. The teenager's squeal was almost inaudible as she swung around to see Dean there too. But it was her mother who spoke up, politely introducing them and asking for a picture. As Dean took selfies with the duo Castiel smiled fondly, shaking his head and adding two jars of jelly to their cart. One of grape, one of strawberry. For variety.

When they were alone again, likely so the pictures could be posted as fast as the Wi-Fi connection allowed to Lucy's social media account, Castiel relayed her question to Dean.

"See? What'd I tell you? They love you."

"She didn't squeal when she saw me," Castiel pointed out as they reached the granola bar section.

"She's probably seen you around school. How many of these did you say we needed again?"

"Several." After a moment of studying the shelves Castiel decided, "Select four, I think. We won't use them all tomorrow but you complained that we only had one flavor last time."

"It wasn't even a good flavor," Dean grumbled, eyeing the selection before them.

"So you say. Did you get the lunch meat?"

"And the cheese," Dean assured him, taking down a box.

When Castiel was satisfied with that, they moved on to jerky. Then to trail mix and dried fruit. Only when Castiel was satisfied that they were stocked on the proper fuel for tomorrow did he agree to head to the checkout. He didn't always join Dean on these grocery runs, particularly since he only seemed to annoy his husband, but this was something he needed to have a say in. If Dean was left to the task he'd come back with travel packs of cookies, every single flavor of jerky they had in stock, and little else.

It wasn't until they were driving home that Dean asked, "Have you gotten used to it yet?"

"What?"

"Getting recognized in public."

"Not outside of school," Castiel admitted.

"Yeah, but you have the power there. It only half counts."

"I suppose. Have you gotten used to it?"

"As long as they're not obnoxious."

"The ones today were nice."

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "If those were the only types of fan you had I would be much less adverse to the idea of recognition."

"Most of them are like Lucy," Dean assured him.

"Good."

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

That afternoon, Castiel busied himself in their backyard once the sun started to go down. As soon as the heat wasn't quite so brutal he pulled on a pair of gardening gloves and buried his hands in the dirt. It was soothing to him, like Dean working on Baby. He even wore the broad brimmed straw hat that Dean had given to him shortly after they'd bought this house. It had been given as a joke, Dean teasing him about being the little old lady who liked to tend her flowers. Castiel hadn't understood the amusement, but it did keep direct sun off his face and neck so he made use of it.

He was pulling up weeds from his bed of dahlia's when their back door opened, boots making their way out onto the porch. Castiel only turned to look back when he heard slow footsteps making their way towards him. He frowned, sitting back on his heels and tipping his hat back a bit to get a better look at Dean's face.

"What's wrong?"

"I…just got off the phone with Sammy." Dean lowered himself down, sitting in the grass next to his husband, a beer dangling from one hand. He had an oddly distant look on his face, one Castiel wasn't used to seeing.

"Did something happen?"

"You could say that."

Castiel waited patiently, fiddling with one of the weeds still in his hands. Words weren't exactly Dean's strong suit. He'd speak up when he could string them together in what he deemed to be a sufficient fashion.

"Dad came to see him today."

At that Castiel felt his spine stiffen, hands tightening on the weed, jaw clinching. In truth he hadn't known where exactly John Winchester was, and if any of Dean's family knew they hadn't shared. Castiel himself had only met the man once, when they'd been driving back from Palo Alto nine years ago. It hadn't been a pleasant meeting, for many reasons.

"Not sure how he tracked Sammy down, but uh….said he wanted to make amends. Even after he found out about Gabriel."

Castiel's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

Sam had met Gabriel when they'd witnessed their brother's ceremony, and apparently gotten along quite well. Well enough that they were currently sharing a house in northern Kansas, married five years. Sam had gotten his law degree and was working at his own practice now, while Gabriel ran the best candy and sweet shop that side of the Mississippi. Considering John's reaction when he found out about Castiel, it was a genuine shock that he hadn't walked away a second time.

"Really. Shocked me too. Especially since they could never be in the same room five minutes without arguing."

"Did he?"

"What?"

"Make amends."

Dean's eyes got distant again. "Dunno. Sam mentioned he might be coming here next. He hasn't gone home yet, not sure if mom would let him through the door. I guess he ain't either, so he's starting with us kids."

Well, at least John's sense of self-preservation had improved. It had been somewhat lacking the day he'd come home to find Dean and his boyfriend making a visit. While he'd guessed, Castiel hadn't had confirmation until that day just how emphatic John was about heterosexuality. Either Mary hadn't noticed, or hadn't wanted to notice, that all three times John had caught wind of Dean deviating from his idea of the straight and narrow it he'd corrected it with a beating. By the time he was seventeen this hadn't resulted in the 'corrected' behavior he'd wanted, but rather a son who was very skilled at keeping things from his parents. Sam had favored girls more, so there was less fuel to his fire, but he hadn't been opposed to guys either. Dean hadn't been so lucky.

Considering it was nearly a decade ago, Castiel remembered that day very well. Remembered sitting on Mary's couch, a cup of lemonade clutched in his hands, simultaneously giddy and nervous. She'd raised her eyebrows at Dean's tentative introduction, but still invited them in and fed them pie. She'd asked him questions, where he was from, what he was studying, and the like. Jo seemed irrationally pleased to find her elder brother had fallen head over ass for another guy, something about a yaoi faze she was going through.

They'd been having a nice conversation, Dean grumbling as they ganged up on him regarding his lacking table manners the moment he had his favorite food in front of him, when the door opened. Castiel hadn't known why at the time, but every singe family member had frozen, Dean going ridged at his side. At first things had been tense but not explosive. Castiel had initially introduced himself as a friend from college before anyone could say otherwise, but before he could shake John's hand Dean had grabbed it, lacing their fingers together. Even before he'd stated the truth John's face had gone red. Amid all the yelling that ensued as Dean stood up for both himself and his then-boyfriend, the extent of John's prejudice had come to light. Mary had joined the argument at that point, furious that he'd raised a hand to their son. Castiel had tried to stay out of it as much as he could, but then John had turned on him, apparently convinced he'd somehow managed to do something to his son. Just when it looked like he was about to start swinging Mary had kicked him out of the house with an ultimatum. He could either accept all his children as they came and come back in the morning, or he could be a stubborn bastard about it and come back in the morning to pack up his things. His response had been to disown Dean. Mary had promised to have all his things boxed up in the yard by morning.

However bad Castiel had felt about the whole thing, he knew it had hit Dean hard. Despite everything his father had done, he'd still respected him on some level. Looked up to him. Hadn't been able to help it. To hear the utter disgust in John's voice as he stated that he only had one son had broken his heart. Castiel had seen it, for all Dean had never admitted it.

For what it had been worth, Mary had been supportive all the way, never letting John back into the house after that. Every other year they rotated between their in-laws for Christmas and Thanksgiving. This year they were due to drive to Lawrence for Christmas, where she'd be waiting with a tree and at least one pie already made. She'd even taken up the age-old mother-in-law tradition of dropping hints at wanting grandchildren.

"Does Jo know?" Castiel asked at last.

"He said he was gonna call her next, but we're closer so…."

"What do you think brought this on?"

Dean snorted. "Alcoholics Anonymous? How the hell should I know?"

"If he is serious about this…will you turn him away?"

"Would you?"

"My father isn't your father. They need to be handled differently."

"Big help, Cas, thanks."

"From what I understand, your father doesn't make decisions like this easily," Castiel continued patiently. "You said so yourself, he's a very stubborn man. Apologizing for anything doesn't come easily. Particularly something of this magnitude. Whether you choose to listen is up to you, I will support your decision regardless."

Dean downed what was left of his beer in one long draft. "Just listening don't mean I gatta accept it. Think it might be worth hearing what the old man has to say?"

"Should he show up on our doorstep as he did Sam's…perhaps. I'm curious to see what caused this breech of silence after nearly ten years," Castiel admitted. "But as I said, it's your choice. Ask him in for coffee and I'll turn on the pot. Tell him to get off our lawn and I won't complain if you slam the door."

That got a tiny smile out of his husband. "And sound like a grumpy old man?"

"Not yet. Give it another few years."

"A few?" Dean demanded, eyes narrowing.

"Of course. Someone's going to have to keep the neighborhood hooligans off my flowerbeds."

"Yeah? And where're you gonna be?"

"Watching the bees."

"Right. Forgot. Watching the bees," Dean muttered, shaking his head. "You really wanna be getting dirty?"

"I don't see why not."

"We're gonna get plenty dirty tomorrow too," Dean reminded him.

"Exactly. Weeding needs to be done and I doubt I'll have the energy when we get back," Castiel reminded him, turning back to his work. "Did you get everything ready?"

"Everything that can't wait until morning. Sandwiches are made, backpacks are packed, the canteens are cleaned, the camera is fully charged, and Baby's got a full tank. Do we really have to go all the way out to River Park?"

"It has the best view once you make it up the mountain. Also it shouldn't be as crowded. I thought it might be more conducive if there weren't many people around."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean admitted.

"I think it'll be worth the Impala getting a little dusty in the dirt parking lot," Castiel told him gently.

"I guess."

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

"Hey, get a shot of the sign as we're going in."

Castiel obligingly took out the camera, removing the lens cap and turning it on. They were getting close, and the sun had just cleared the horizon. It looked quite picturesque as it cleared the hills, and Castiel made sure to get a good shot of it before aiming the camera at the park's sign as they passed it. Then he turned it on Dean, saying, "Smile, Dean. You've had your coffee."

Dean grimaced, smothered a yawn with the back of one hand, then turned to give the camera a weary smile. "Not enough, babe."

"You'll wake up once we get walking," Castiel reminded him, turning the lens forward again as they rolled through the gates.

There were only a few cars when Dean parked, and they were all close to the trail that led to campgrounds. As they got out Castiel shouldered his backpack, slowly panning around to take in the area. Dean had decided to try cutting together clips during the start of the video with a voiceover recorded later, maybe start the video per usual then cut to what they got out here.

"Ready?" Dean asked as he locked the Impala.

Smiling, Castiel led the way towards the hiking trail. Their plan was to hike up the trail this morning then head back in the afternoon. If all went well they'd actually make it to the top of the ridge before Dean could beg a lunch break. Last time they'd done this particular trail he'd managed to go through their lunch and most of their snacks by the time they reached the viewpoint. Castiel was bound and determined that they make it to the trail's end by the time he fed his husband lunch, and that they didn't run out of food halfway back down the trail. Dean had been surly and hungry by the time they'd driven home last time. Accordingly all the food and the small padded lunch bag with their sandwiches was in his backpack while Dean carried a majority of their other supplies.

"Do you wanna get a shot as we're going in?"

Rather than answer outright, Castiel aimed the lens back at his husband and gave him a thumbs-up.

"So here we are, Cas dragged my butt out of bed at o' dark thirty. And he says he ain't feeding me again until we get to the third mile marker."

"If I don't limit your nutrition consumption it'll all be gone far too soon, and it'll slow you down."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. See what I have to put up with?"

"You're welcome."

Castiel smiled, rotating the camera so it was aimed as his face. "He's just grumpy because he only time for one cup of coffee. It's a beautiful day, it's only supposed to get up to eight-five degrees-

"You said it was just gonna get to eighty!" Dean protested from behind him.

"That was Monday. Today's Saturday," Castiel protested innocently. "Weather is changeable."

"Exactly. I thought you'd checked it sooner."

"There's only five percent chance of rain and there's supposed to be a clear view when we get to the lookout point," Castiel continued, ignoring him. "And if we're lucky we might see some wildlife."

As he turned off the camera Dean asked, "Ain't there a bunch of flowers on this route?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Mention it."

"Why?"

"Because you're excited about it."

Shrugging, Castiel obliged. He kept the camera off but in-hand, just in case. Over the next few hours he got various clips as they made their way up the trail. He made sure to try and catch every bit of wildlife, along with a wide variety of flora and fauna. So this didn't slow them down, he took to filming as he walked, aiming the lens at the prettier flowers or more interesting plants. He would also provide updates, such as announcing, "Two miles down!" and catching Dean's grimace on film.

At the third and ninth mile markers they stopped for snacks, but they paused more regularly to stay hydrated. A few times Dean took the camera as they walked, doing a spiel of his own and at one point reneging a story from one of the last times they'd come up here. Namely the time he'd been in charge of checking the weather and forgotten. Castiel hadn't been overly thrilled to be huddling under the branches of an oak while a storm rolled through. Then when it'd stopped they'd had to walk seven miles back down to the parking lot in soaking clothes.

After they stopped on the third mile marker Castiel handed over the camera, and as they got going Dean checked the list of questions on his phone. The idea was to answer them as they climbed, between shots of everything else. Dean had already told his story as a means to pass the time before he was allowed to eat again.

"Okay, first question," he announced as they got back on the trail, camera aimed at Castiel. "'Who's more likely to be running late?'"

Castiel glanced back to raise an eyebrow at him. "I'm surprised you picked that one."

"Why?"

"You're never on time for anything."

"You're kidding, right? If you get absorbed in something you only come out again when you get hungry."

"At least I'm never late to an appointment," Castiel argued. "Barring unforeseen circumstances I'm at work on time each day and I arrive at my appointed time when I have a doctor's visit. Unlike some people, who insist on arriving five minutes late."

"Hey, if I say I'm gonna be somewhere I'm there," Dean fired back, for all he was grinning behind the camera. "I don't make a date then call three hours later because I got sucked into some documentary about shrunken heads."

"That was one time!"

"Right. You didn't wait three hours to remember you had a date, but it took over a year before you started remembering without me having to text you an hour before."

Castiel made a face. "I'm punctual when it matters. When there were reservations or a movie with a specific time I never ran late."

"Just 'cause there's a set time you gatta be there don't mean that's the only time it matters."

"I thought we'd agreed to disagree," Castiel reminded him.

"I know that. They didn't," Dean stated, then turned off the camera.

He waited until the next mile marker to move on to the second question, passing Castiel the camera.

As he slowed his pace, walking alongside his husband, Dean read off, "'Who does most of the housework?' That'd be me."

"Yes, I'm afraid even when I'm inclined to help I rarely do a good job," Castiel commented wryly.

"I've never said that," Dean protested.

"No, you simply come back behind me and correct everything. You put dishes in their proper place, re-fold shirts, get whatever I missed while dusting."

"I'm sorry, Cas, but I can never find anything when you put 'em away," Dean cajoled. "And clothes wrinkle easy enough without you wadding them up."

"You spend more time at home than I do, that's why I haven't complained much. When I am home the last thing I want to do is vacuum. It's an agreeable arrangement."

The next mile Dean took back their camera, aiming it at Castiel as they approached a creek. It was shallow, only a few inches of running water skirting around large, flat stones. Last time it hadn't been so dry, and naturally Dean had fallen in, ass first.

"'If it were possible, what would you eat every day?' Oh, that's easy. Pie, dude."

"Yes, I'm aware. Each year for his birthday part of the celebration includes a week of pie."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, and you make me a whole day of pie. Quiche for breakfast, chicken pot pie for lunch, and shepherd's pie for dinner. Plus two homemade lattice topped pies. You never mentioned how you learned how to make all that."

Castiel blushed, devoting all his attention to getting across the rocks. "I, um, spoke extensively with your mother."

"When? Would 'a thought it'd take days to get you trained."

Turning on the opposite bank to give him a dirty look, Castiel informed him, "Remember that camping trip you went on with Sam the summer succeeding our marriage? When I spent the weekend with Mary after she broke her arm?"

"Yeah, why?

"We had three days, Dean. Your mother is a very effective teacher." Grimacing, glancing down at his fingers, he added wryly, "She would hit my hands with a wooden spoon whenever I made a mistake and gave me laminated, excruciatingly detailed recipes."

Dean laughed, joining him on the opposite bank. "That sounds about right. How come you never told me?"

"I never saw the need," Castiel shrugged. Focusing on the lens he informed it, "None of you have ever seen him when he walks into a kitchen full of pie. Unless you're related to him. I imagine it's akin to a child waking on Christmas morning to find a puppy in their stocking."

Dean grumbled incoherently, cheeks a little more pink than the exertion would warrant, before raising his voice back to normal volume. "You ate the same lunch every freaken' day before I started making you stuff."

"I am more content with monotony in my diet than you are," Castiel admitted. "But I think the one thing I would eat every day if I were able would be honey."

"On what?"

"Anything. Though I'd rather just eat it straight from the spoon. The taste is purer that way."

"Knew it."

"Of course you did."

One mile later, Castiel took back the camera as Dean read, "'If you ever had to bail each other out of jail, what would it be for?' I figured they meant if you had to bail me out, what is it I would have done, and then vice versa."

Castiel snorted. "If I ever have to bail you out of jail it will likely be for aggravated assault. Possibly murder. In which case I'd be putting our funds towards getting a good lawyer, not getting you out."

"Wait, what?" Dean balked. "Why?"

"Because if anyone should ever wreck Baby, be it in a fender-bender or a ten-car-pileup, you would likely be inclined to pulverize them. With extreme prejudice. The authorities don't often take kindly to people who pound another person's face in."

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. He frowned for a minute, then a reluctant grimace crossed his face. "Damn, I guess you're right. But I know what I'd be bailing you out for."

Castiel raised his eyebrows, waiting.

Grinning, his husband stated, "Either breaking and entering or shoplifting."

After a moment of blank staring, Castiel demanded, "Why in the world would I do either of those things?"

Dean laughed. "You wouldn't, not intentionally. Remember that time I was out of town and you forgot your keys?"

Understanding struck, and Castiel made a face. "Unfortunately."

Aiming the lens at his husband Dean explained, "I went out to see Sam for a weekend a few years back. I left after Cas had gone to work and he brought the wrong set of car keys. One has all the keys on it, the other just has the car stuff on it. He grabbed the wrong set, and he forgot where we stashed the spare house key. But Gabriel taught him how to pick locks when they were growing up, and I guess he still keeps some tools on hand. The new neighbors across the street see him picking the front door and called the cops on him. Thankfully they guy they sent out is a buddy of mine and believed Cas here when he explained why he was breaking into his own house."

"So you think if I forget my keys again- "

"When."

"What?"

 _"When_ you forget your keys again," Dean corrected. "You've done it before, that was just the only time I wasn't around to let you in."

"Fine. What about shoplifting?"

"Watch."

Castiel groaned, head hanging briefly as his husband explained.

"This was last year, I think," Dean recalled. "We were in this jewelry shop, the plan was to find mom something special for her fiftieth birthday. He wands off and starts looking at watches."

"I was looking for a present for _you,"_ Castiel argued, miffed. "You shouldn't get such amusement out of this."

"I know, I'm sorry, but it's still kinda funny," Dean protested. "He's looking at some of the displays, but when he sees me coming he panics and just shoves the one he's looking at into his pocket. I start asking for his opinion on some stuff and he forgets he has it. Then when we try to leave the alarms go off, and the shop's rent-a-cop just about tackles him to the floor. Cas is swearing up and down he didn't take anything when they find that watch, and I think they still would have had him arrested if he didn't have this look on his face when the rent-a-cop fished it out. So yeah, you'd get arrested for something like breaking into your own house or accidently stealing something."

Castiel refused to dignify that with a comment, but as miffed as he was by this revelation he knew Dean was probably right.

Eventually Dean passed him the camera, checking his phone for the next question.

"'Who has the best fashion sense?' I think that's me."

"You wear jeans and t-shirts," Castiel protested. "I don't think that counts as an evolved sense of fashion."

"When I met you, you had this drawer devoted to ridiculously bright sweatshirts. You wear the same stuff to work everyday because you _know_ you're fashion blind."

"Next question," Castiel stated stiffly.

"'Who is more prone to losing things?' That's you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You'd lose your phone if you weren't so attached to the thing. As it is I have to call you once a week so you can figure out where it got left."

Turning the camera so he could look into it Castiel stated, "This from the man who keeps buying earbuds because his are constantly disappearing."

"At least I ain't losing the expensive ones," Dean protested.

"No, but I've been using the same set for the last two years. It would have been three, but you decided to barrow mine once then lost those too."

"Okay, next question! 'Who kills the spiders?' I kill them, Cas catches them then 'releases them into the wild.'"

"You don't need to say it that way," Castiel objected, trying not to pout.

"Like what?"

"Condescending. I don't appreciate it."

"Alright, I'm sorry. You value life more than I do, how's that?"

"Fine," Castiel relented. He glanced at the camera, then noted, "I thought we were going to try stretching this out more."

"Yeah, well, we didn't. I was gonna edit everything together later anyway. Wanna just keep going or give it a break?"

"How many do we have left?"

"Three. How many more miles?"

"What's that got to do with it?"

"I might need the distraction."

"Very well." It seemed unwise to answer Dean's question. As it was he still groaned when they passed the next mile marker.

He waited another two miles before passing Dean the camera and asking, "What's the next question?"

Dean lifted the camera, then relayed, "'Who goes to bed first?'"

"Usually me, but I get up before you do," Castiel noted.

"Unless you're up late grading stuff. Then you sleep through most of the morning."

"Considering how often I have to get up early I like to sleep when I can," Castiel defended.

"I get it, trust me. And that kind answers the next question too, 'Who likes to sleep in?'"

"You like to sleep in too, you just have more opportunity to do so."

"True. Last question, 'Who was pickier when you were finding a house?'"

Castiel chuckled. "That was you."

"You could have been more choosy," Dean protested. "Aside from the price you just cared about not having a long commute to work."

"Not true. I also wanted at least two bathrooms and three bedrooms. And a large enough backyard for my bees."

"Which is still a low bar."

"I thought you'd appreciate my lack of preference," Castiel sighed. "It gave you free reign, I simply retained veto power. I don't recall you complaining at the time."

"You were working a new job, I figured you were stressed enough without me bitching about you not taking more interest in house hunting. Sue me."

Castiel paused at that. "Really?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You never mentioned that before."

"It never came up," Dean said uncomfortably, then turned off the camera.

The camera only came out a few more times after that, to capture a hawk taking flight and go over some flowers Castiel hadn't expected to bloom so early. They reached the lookout point around noon as Castiel had hoped. He made sure to get a good, panoramic shot of the whole thing before sitting back to enjoy it himself. There was no one else up there at the time, so he and Dean had the place to themselves. They sat on a rock and took in the view as they ate sandwiches and pork rinds, staying nearly an hour before they headed back down again. Castiel would have liked to of stayed longer, but some more hikers were coming up and Dean was getting tired.

So, as he had on the way up, he led the way down the trail. It didn't take as long, the going was downhill and Dean was motivated. By the time they made it home both were worn out, trudging up the stairs to shower and change into clean clothes. After six rounds of rock-paper-scissors came up a tie Dean just got into the shower first. Unwilling to wait Castiel joined him, grumbling at him to move over. The space was big enough, and even if they'd had the energy they'd found out the hard way years before that shower sex was not what'd it cracked up to be. Castiel just wished the discovery hadn't cost two banged skulls and three sprained body parts between them.

Afterward he cleaned the containers and thermoses while Dean made dinner, grilled cheeses and tomato soup. They ate in contented silence, then put their feet up for a few episodes of Game of Thrones before lurching off to bed. Dean didn't even try to upload the footage they'd gotten, putting it off until the next day.

All in all it was a very long, tiring day. It was also one of the most enjoyable Castiel had had in some time.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	4. VOL 4

**Shout out to 777angeloflove, Isabelle6116, Koala789, MeshackDiva, Kathy, Katy, Kat A. Coop, Savannahmix, and nifflover22!**

 ***Gasp!* Has it really been ten months since my last post? Oops. Didn't mean for it to be so long, but I've been working on a lot of stuff, both for fics and rl. For those who don't know, real life is a bitch.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

He loved the smell of coffee in the morning. Particularly when he could enjoy it properly. While he always had a travel mug with him when he left in the mornings, Castiel much preferred the days when he could sit and sip it as his leisure.

Yawning, Castiel selected a mug from their cabinet as the Keurig grumbled. He took out creamer as coffee trickled into his mug, taking a moment to look blearily around the pantry before closing the door. He wasn't hungry yet. Too early. Okay so it was 9:38, but he'd been up fifteen minutes at the most.

Castiel was shuffling towards the living room, mug cupped in his hands, wondering what he should watch while he waited for Dean to wake up, when someone knocked on their door. He paused, staring dully towards it. Who knocked on people's doors on a Sunday morning? Jehovah's witnesses? Perhaps it was a good thing his husband hadn't stirred yet. He was nicer to such people than Dean, particularly before his coffee.

Reluctantly he set his steaming mug down on an end table, shuffling towards the front door as they began knocking again. It wasn't hard, angry knocking, just a series of polite raps followed by a prod of their doorbell. Later Castiel blamed it on his lack of caffeine, his forgetting to peer out the peep-hole before he unlocked the door. But for whatever reason it didn't occur to him to check until after he'd pulled the door open, at which point it was too late.

For a long moment Castiel simply stared, blinking rapidly, head quirking to one side. He knew who this was, of course, and was sorely tempted to shut the door again. But his mother had drilled etiquette into his skull from the time he could walk, so he resisted temptation. Barely.

There on their welcome mat, decorated with little cartoon bumblebees and dotted trails, was John Winchester. He looked much the same as he had ten years ago, for all he'd obviously aged. Even his fashion sense had changed little, reminiscent of his elder son's. Ratty jeans, stained work boots, and a pale t-shirt under a leather jacket.

John had his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, eyeing Castiel with an expression he couldn't quite place. It occurred to him very briefly that he was still wearing a pair of boxers covered in Star Wars logos and a gray undershirt, his feet bare. Likely his hair was still standing all over the place, and he needed a shave. Hardly the standard for 'presentable'. Then he resolved that anyone who arrived unannounced would have to deal with the consequences, particularly this individual.

"Hey, uh…Castiel, right?"

"Wait here."

With that polite statement he shut the door in John's face. He turned, heaved a sigh, and started for the stairs. When he got to their bedroom Dean was exactly where he'd left him. Sprawled on his stomach, one arm thrown over the empty space he'd once occupied, face plowed into a pillow.

Reluctantly Castiel pulled off the covers, giving his shoulder a gentle shake. "Dean. Wake up."

"Mph." Dean shrugged away his hand and burrowed deeper into the sheets. "Go 'way, Cas."

Castiel sighed again, yawned, then crawled onto the bed. Dean had spent a majority of the day before on tow truck duty, he hadn't gotten back until late. He usually liked to let his husband sleep in after such days, but sometimes he had little choice in the matter.

"Dean, I'm sorry, but you need to wake up enough to give me an answer." As he spoke Castiel petted his hair with one hand, reaching the other towards the water glass on Dean's bedside table with the other.

"Answer?" Dean mumbled groggily.

Ah well, he'd tried. Castiel dipped three fingers into the water, getting his whole hand wet as he lifted Dean's shirt to press it flat to his back. Dean made a squawking sound, flailing as he jerked upright. Castiel leaned away, watching with a bemused expression as his husband barely avoided falling off the bed before he sat back and glared at him.

"What the hell, Cas?"

"I'm sorry, but I'd rather have your answer when you're awake."

Dean groaned, scrubbing at his face. "Alright, I'm awake. What is it?"

"Your father is at the front door."

His eyes narrowed. "Dad's here? How do you know?"

"He knocked. I answered before I thought to check. I told him to wait and came to get you. You never mentioned what you'd do when this situation arose."

Dean was quiet for a long minute, then slowly swung his legs over the bed's edge. "I'll hear him out. If I don't like what he has to say, I'll kick his ass out."

"If you do?"

"We'll see."

Castiel trailed him downstairs uncertainly, hanging back out of sight as he went to open the door. John was still there, at least, and he didn't seem disgruntled about having to wait. Satisfied this might go somewhere, he retreated to the kitchen with his coffee where he could afford them some privacy.

"Hey, Dean."

"Dad. Why're you here?"

"I wanted to talk, son. It's, uh, it's been a long time."

"Ten years. What's changed?"

"You don't seem too surprised to see me, son. Sam called you?"

"Yeah. What's changed?"

John hesitated, then asked, "Can I come in?"

"Depends. You gonna be civil to Cas?"

"Yeah, yeah of course."

Feet shuffled, boots crossed their threshold, and the door closed. Castiel got down two more mugs, brewing coffee as Dean brought his father into the living room. They were sitting across from each other, avoiding eye contact, looking very awkward, when he came in with three mugs. He set them on the coffee table, handed one to Dean, then brought the other to John. This earned him a surprised glance and a gruff thanks as he accepted the mug.

Beverages distributed, Castiel made to return to the kitchen.

"Hang on, sit down," Dean urged.

He hesitated, looking uncertainly between the two. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

When John didn't protest, Castiel carefully perched on the couch at Dean's side. He waited in silence, which stretched on a bit as they focused on drinking their respective cups of coffee. Eventually Dean cleared his throat an asked, "Was there something you wanted to talk about or did you just want to sit around taking up space?"

John cleared his throat, setting his mug down. "Right. Listen, I…I know I didn't handle things right. When you were growing up or when you brought him home." He nodded at Cas, rubbing his hands together uneasily. "You caught me off guard, not that it's any excuse."

"No, it ain't," Dean agreed. "But you stuck by it for ten years."

"It took me ten years to come to my senses."

"What did the trick?"

"Not sure if it was one exact thing," John admitted. "I guess I started coming around when I realized how much of your lives were missing. I kept up with you, you know. All of you."

A frown crossed Dean's face. "How? Didn't think you were on speaking terms with mom."

"She hasn't responded yet. I haven't tried since she threatened to get a restraining order five years ago."

"So what, then?"

"Social media."

"Since when are you good with computers?"

"I'm not," John admitted, scratching the back of his neck. A nervous tick Castiel had seen Dean preform countless times. "But I figured it was the only way I'd be able to keep up with my kids. You, Sam, Jo, you're all on at least two sites. That and…Pastor Jim talks to me sometimes."

Castiel glanced at Dean. Unless he was mistaken the minister was an old family friend. Judging by his husband's furrowed brow, this was still the case.

"Never mentioned he was talking to you," he muttered.

"I asked him not to. Thanks to him I made it to your graduation. Sam and Jo's too." A faint smile crossed his face briefly. "She finally decides to wear heels and it's on that damn football field."

It took a bit of effort not to smile himself. Castiel remembered all too well. Jo had been one of numerous students at North Lawrence High who'd worn heels when it came time to walk for their diploma's. Unfortunately the ceremony had taken place on the football field, due to numbers, and it had rained the night before. She had been one of many to fall before resorting to carrying their treacherous shoes.

"How come we never saw you?"

"I didn't think you'd want to," John admitted tiredly. "I'm real proud of all of you, I want you to know that. You've done well for yourself."

"Thanks," Dean said uncertainly. "You know about my work online?"

"'Course, Dean."

"What do you think?"

John seemed to consider this a moment before admitting, "It's not exactly conventional, but you've made it work for you."

"You've seen my videos?"

"I've seen 'em all," John admitted, smiling wanly. "I never miss a post. Still not used to the whole 'tweet' thing, but I'm more interested in reading than…that."

"Wait, you…why?"

"You're my son."

"Since when?"

A pained look crossed John's face. "Since always. I just never sacked up enough to tell you until now. Look, Dean, I…I can't undo what I did. That day or before. I wish I could, but I can't. So I'm trying to patch things up as best I can, if you'll let me."

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On how you answer my first question. What finally did you in?"

John looked down at his hands. He was quiet for a long minute before he began, "I'd heard bits and pieces from Pastor Jim. I knew you two were still together. That you'd gotten married, I just…I guess I never thought about you two as a couple. Until you started doing those videos. Together."

Castiel ran his thumb over the mug's surface, glancing back at Dean before focusing his attention on John. He tried to remember back over the videos, what was said, what stories were told. Would any of them set him off? Or perhaps encourage him to be reasonable? The first video's questions had been primarily directed at him, but the second time their questions had been more about the relationship. So was the third. Perhaps it was that they were doing well? That they were shockingly normal? As far as he could tell they were downright boring in many cases.

"What'd you think?" Dean was asking stiffly.

"At first I was surprised," John admitted. "Not sure why, you'd mentioned it on Twitter, but I was."

"Surprised about what?"

"That you were still going so strong. That you reminded me of me and Mary back in the day."

Confusion crossed Dean's brow. "Seriously?"

John's mouth twitched in a smile. "Yeah. You two bicker like an old married couple, you know that?"

Castiel had seen more than one comment saying something similar, but he opted not to say as much.

"It's been said. So what?"

Turning his attention to Castiel, John asked, "Do you love my boy?"

Blinking owlishly at the man, head tilting to one side, Castiel said, "Yes. Why?"

Eyes going back to Dean, John asked, "Do you love him?"

"What's it matter?"

"Just answer the question."

Dean sat back, grip tightening on his mug. "Yeah. I do."

"That should have been good enough from the beginning. I'm sorry it took so long for me to admit that." Smiling tiredly, John returned his gaze to Castiel. "Keep taking care of him, would you?"

"Of course. But…am I to understand you no longer take issue with his sexuality? Or Sam's?"

"I shouldn't have to begin with."

"So why did you?" Dean demanded.

"One breakthrough at a time, son. I understand if you don't want me around, but if you're okay with it I'd like to spend some time with you. Grab a beer, maybe?"

"I'll think about it. You gonna try talking to mom?"

"I haven't tried since she threatened to rip my lungs out through my ass if I ever sent her another birthday card," John admitted, a decidedly fond smile crossing his face.

That _did_ sound like Mary Winchester. She hadn't bothered to change her name, though last he'd heard the divorce had been finalized mere months after John had been kicked out. She was fond of threats that involved the brutal removal of certain beloved organs. A trait her eldest had inherited.

"I ain't going to her to grovel on your behalf," Dean began.

"I don't want you to," John interjected. "Your mother and I…that's another can of worms. Right now I'm trying to see if there's a chance my own children will start talking to me again."

"You're the one who walked away."

"That's why I'm here, Dean. To mend things, if you'll let me."

Dean was quiet for a long minute. Castiel waited patiently, sitting back to sip what little remained of his coffee. He did keep an eye on John, who appeared to be a bit more on edge, watching his son with what looked very much like anxiety.

Finally Dean said, "I'll think about it. Where're you staying?"

When John left shortly after, Dean had his current cell number and the name of the motel he was crashing at. Castiel watched him go, waiting until the truck had rumbled away to turn his attention to Dean. His husband was quiet, going to the kitchen to rinse out his mug.

"What do you think?" he asked, doing the same.

Dean leaned back against the counter, folding his arms. "Dunno. Sam's postponing judgement to see if he's gonna follow through."

Castiel held his peace, letting the gears churn. Dean would come to a conclusion in his own time. Just the fact there wasn't an immediate response meant John's visit was being seriously considered, not outright discounted.

"What'd you get out of it?"

"Mmm?"

"What'd you think about all that?"

"I'm hardly an expert but…he did seem genuine," Castiel offered.

"Maybe that's the problem," Dean grumbled.

"I don't understand."

"It was easier to forget about him after things went last time." Dean sighed scrubbing his face. "Hungry? I'll think about it later."

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

"What's up world? Your friendly neighborhood Batman is back with volume four of my Cas-tastic series. Before we get started, I'd just like to thank everyone for your support and enthusiasm. Cas here didn't think it'd get passed the first video."

Castiel shrugged, unrepentant. "I still fail to understand why, though the results are difficult to argue with."

Today, at Dean's behest, he'd delved into his stash of pun t-shirts. This one depicted a cartoon cactus, small and round in a pot, but it had two triangular points near its top and scant features to indicate eyes and a small smile. The caption below read simply 'Catcus'. He was quite fond of cats, actually, but Dean was allergic. While the lack of a fluffy feline in their home was saddening, he'd come to terms with it.

"Also I'd like to ask that all the question requests stay PG," Dean continued in a firm tone. "I love your input, but my channel is PG and it's gonna stay that way."

With that, he handed Castiel the paper with their latest batch of questions. Per usual he'd filtered them out before selecting ten, putting them together to be read over during the video. Castiel had meant to look them over beforehand, but he'd never gotten around to it.

"'Who has the craziest family?' Isn't that what you might refer to as a loaded question?"

"Nah, not yet. No offense but I think you've got me beat. As much as I love your parents, your family tree's got more nuts in it than mine does."

Castiel grimaced. "Michael would take great offense to know you've lumped him in with the rest of us."

"You're not one of the nuts," Dean protested.

At that Castiel just offered him an incredulously raised eyebrow.

"Okay so you're a little nutty, but in a good way," his husband assured him. "I like most of your quirks."

"Most?" Now both eyebrows were raised.

"Well yeah, I mean...…" Dean stopped, clearing his throat. "You've got a twin who's a self-proclaimed trickster with a sugar addiction, a brother that's named after Satan, and another with a god-complex."

"I've been over this before, Lucifer is a good brother who's much more tolerable when you're not constantly butting heads. And I encourage you to recall that that self-proclaimed trickster is now married to your own brother." Still, Dean had hit the nail on the head and they both knew it. It had been infuriating growing up, but he'd essentially gotten used to it. That, and managed to limit his exposure to the man who fancied himself grander and wiser than anyone currently in the same room. Lucifer, at least, was indeed tolerable. Gabriel he had always been close with, even before they'd married the Winchester brothers.

"Moving on!" Dean declared dramatically, snatching the paper. "'What are your favorite cuss words?' I know I asked things to stay PG, but I figured our favorites fall into that category."

Castiel's lips twitched, but he opted to keep his commentary on that subject to himself. This wasn't exactly true, but then one of the first things they'd agreed on was keeping their intimate life behind an ironclad door. For the day-to-day purposes Dean's statement was accurate enough.

"I believe yours would either be 'dick' or 'bitch'," Castiel stated.

"Sounds about right," Dean conceded. "Yours is 'assbutt'."

"Just once could you manage to say that without snickering?"

"Don't think so, no." Completely unapologetic, Dean handed him the paper. "Next."

"'Who calls their parent/parent's the most?' You."

"Me? You talk to your parents every other Sunday. You have a reminder on your phone to call them."

"Yes, but you interact with Mary more often than that," Castiel countered. "At least once a week you exchange texts, and every time you try a multi-player app the two of you inevitably spend weeks or months trying to one-up each other. Words with Friends is still an ongoing battle."

"One I'm winning."

"For now."

Scowling, Dean snatched the paper back. "'Who's better at keeping secrets?'"

"Depending on the situation that's not entirely a good quality," Castiel pointed out.

"I know, but for the sake of this video let's say it's a good thing. Like the ability to plan a surprise party without the birthday boy finding out."

Castiel made a face. "Sam already knew before I slipped. When are you going to forget about that?"

"When you forget about me cutting that petunia."

"So….never."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So we're at an stalemate."

"No, we're not."

"Then what would you call it?"

"An impasse."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"No. A stalemate is when there is no possible way to make a move or alter your positions. You are, essentially, stuck. An impasse is more accurate to this situation. It's a deadlock, a standoff if you will."

"Seriously?"

"I am very serious."

"What would make this a Mexican standoff?"

"There may or may not be an additional party added, and none of us could achieve any form of resolution without incurring harm."

"The good kind of harm or sexy kind of harm?"

Opting not to dignify that with a response, Castiel shoved the paper under his husband's nose. "Read."

"'What are your Zodiac signs and are they compatible?' Well as you all know I'm an Aquarius. Cas here is a Taurus. Believe it or not, they're not supposed to be very compatible."

A frown crossed Castiel's face. "When did you find this out?"

"Yesterday. Research, I'll show you it later," Dean told him with a sly wink. "Apparently the issue is working things out, but most of the sites agreed that once an Aquarius and Taurus get along they could move mountains. I think we got to that stage. On the other hand, not every trait ascribed to the signs applied to us. Like the whole white picket fence thing was my idea, and our values aren't so different they get in the way that much. And I am way more flexible than they give us credit for."

"You can't even touch your toes," Castiel objected.

"Not that kind of flexibility," Dean protested, cheeks going pink. "I meant like lifestyle, mentally, stuff like that."

"Yes, in that you are more flexible," Castiel conceded.

"Thank you."

Looking at the paper still in his hand, Castiel read, "Who watches the most TV?' Does that mean shows, movies, or just in general?"

"Good point. Let's go with in general."

"You watch far more movies than I do."

"And you watch shows way more than I do."

"You enjoy some of them as well," Castiel protested, folding his arms. "And I'm not the one obsessed with Dr.- "

"Okay, okay, enough sharing."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "In addition to your guilty pleasure, you often join me for Game of Thrones, for example. But yes, he does prefer movies. Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit, most Westerns. You have a diverse pallet."

"Thanks, babe." The embarrassment had been replaced by a pleased smile.

Humming an absent response, Castiel handed him the paper.

"'Who has more clothes and shoes?' Now, see, we can't give this one a direct answer. Your side of the closet has way more crammed into it, but it's all the same stuff. There's like four pairs of the same shoes you wear to work in different stages of life, I think you're on your fifth trench coat since I've known you."

"This from the man who has nine different flannel shirts and just as many pairs of the same jeans."

"Hey, I rotate."

"You also get to wear a jumpsuit to work. You don't have to have a designated wardrobe."

"'Get to'? That thing gets freaken' hot during the summer."

"My side of the closet only looks fuller because I don't wear four sets of clothes a day."

"I do not."

"Let's say you wake up and don't have to go into work until nine. So you put on one set of clothes to wear around the house. Then you change and drive into work. Once there you change into your jumpsuit. Let's give you the benefit of the doubt and not count that one." He was already holding up two fingers. "Afterwards you change back and drive home. Because you put them on when you were dirty and sweaty they are now designated as 'dirty', so they go into the hamper when you get home. There's a different, older set of clothes you wear to do yardwork. You put those on and cut the grass. That's three. After you take a shower you put on the clothes you'd worn that morning. When it's time for bed you find a fresh set of pants and shirt to wear to bed, since you don't like to sleep in the same clothes twice. That's four, not counting the clothes you woke up in. You also change the sheets to clean ones, since the previous set had already been slept on. Did I miss anything?"

Dean, for his part, looked nonplussed. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Castiel waited patiently, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Eventually Dean finally said, "I….guess I never really thought about it. Huh. Guess that explains why there's so much laundry."

Point made, Castiel regarded the paper. "'What would you miss if you went a week without your phone?' Texting, I suppose. Possibly the camera feature. I don't use it for much else."

"Even talking," Dean added wryly. "Not sure what I'd miss. I wouldn't be able to post anything or get any work done, that's for sure."

"Yes, but you're not entirely reliant on it," Castiel mused. "You've gotten better at that. I'm not sure I ever told you that."

Dean shot him a surprised look. "Really?"

Castiel inclined his head. "Yes." Turning to the camera he explained, "When he was starting his channel and just getting into Twitter he had this habit of spending far too much time on his phone. And on his computer, but a lot of it was on his phone. It takes a good deal more effort than many people realize to build what he has. A lot of effort went into…everything, really. It's truly impressive."

"Seriously?" Dean asked, eyebrows arched.

"Yes. I am pleased that you've been so successful, but I'm proud of what you've done."

The ducked head and mumbled, "Thanks", was quite adorable in Castiel's opinion.

Smiling fondly at his husband, Castiel mused, "Though I'm not sure how long you'd last without it these days. You tend to get twitchy if you're forced to abandon your work. Perhaps if you had warning and you could tend things to your satisfaction, like when we took that second honeymoon. You were able to arrange for the gap in your presence, and aside from texting family members on occasion you left your phone alone."

"And taking pictures."

"And taking pictures. You got very good at that."

"Thanks. But I think you were worse about it than I was."

"I was not," Castiel protested.

"You're one of those compulsive scrollers. Whenever you get bored or you're waiting on something you're on Facebook or Twitter."

"I'll have you know I keep up with your exploits."

"I know. But you also spend a lot of time watching vines and laughing at memes."

Castiel deliberately lifted the paper and studied it critically. Then he thrust it under Dean's nose and stated, "I believe it's your turn."

Smirking, Dean took it and glanced at the next question. "'Who takes longer showers?'"

"You," Castiel announced promptly.

"You wanna think about that for a minute? You're no speedster yourself."

"There's a reason I prefer to get into the bathroom first in the mornings. You take twenty-minute showers."

"They're not that long," Dean protested, folding his arms.

"I've timed them. They are," Castiel assured him. They weren't so prudish they couldn't share the bathroom, should they be awake and getting ready at the same time one would shave and do whatever else they needed to while the other showered. So long as neither forgot and accidently flushed the toilet it was an efficient system.

"Fine, try it tonight."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll be thinking about it and you'll intentionally hurry. It won't be an accurate reading."

"I will not."

"You will and we both know it. If you want I can time you at some point in the future when you're not thinking about it."

"Fine. Here," Dean huffed, handing him the paper. "Last question."

"'Who's the better…kisser?'" He gave his husband an unamused look. "What happened to keeping this PG?"

"That was the most PG question they had," Dean protested. "And it was one of the most popular ones. Come on, it's just kissing. They do it in Disney movies."

"Yes, but it's not objective," Castiel protested. "How are we supposed to judge that?"

Dean hesitated at that. "Any ideas? I mean I like to think I'm not half bad, and I know you're good."

"I have an idea, but I don't think either of us want to do it."

"What?"

"The most objective method would be to find a trustworthy third party who is knowledgeable in this and have them kiss both of us."

"Nope. Not happening," Dean deadpanned.

"I thought not," Castiel stated wryly, folding his arms. He chose not to tell the camera that his husband could be the jealous type. Dean wouldn't cope well with the very idea of someone else kissing him, even if it was consensual and for a purpose. They'd once been in a rather busy bar near the end of happy hour, as they'd had excellent burgers and chili fries, when he'd gotten them both kicked out. Castiel had simply gone to the bar for refills, but as he'd been waiting for the bartender to refill their beer mugs someone had come up behind him and grabbed his ass. When he'd jerked away and turned to confront them, he'd found himself being forcibly kissed by a taller man who reeked of tequila and cigarettes. He'd barely managed to shove them away when Dean was dragging the guy off him, getting them clear of Castiel before he threw the first punch. Castiel didn't enjoy confrontation most times, and while he'd been prepared to simply have the drunk thrown out he couldn't say he hated seeing him being dealt with. For all that, he'd still been trying to drag his husband off him when security had thrown all three of them out.

No, no matter who that third party was, there would be no kissing experimentation.

"So you wanna call it a tie?" Dean said at last.

"Agreed." Turning to the camera Castiel asked, "I would appreciate it if you would refrain from such questions, if you please. As he said his channel is PG, and it would be best if it were to remain that way. If you do have questions, please try to make them less awkward to answer."

"Don't give them any ideas," Dean groaned.

"It's the internet, the ideas were already there. If they're given a conduit perhaps you won't be bombarded with so many unpleasant requests. Frankly I don't mind answering some of the ones I saw- "

"No, they were thrown out for a reason," Dean warned, pointing a finger at him. "You're not the best judge, that's why you only have veto power and not initial deciding power."

"Perhaps I should join you the next time you make a list."

"You really wanna pick through all the requests?"

"Why not?" Turning to the camera, he said, "Please comment if you would like to see the results of that."

"Don't steal my lines," Dean protested.

"I'm not, I'm interacting. You wanted me to interact."

"My mistake," his husband grumbled, facing the camera. In a wryer tone than usual, he said, "If you like what you see, like, comment, and subscribe down below. Stay safe, Gotham!"

As soon as the camera was off Castiel asked, "What are you afraid of?"

"Do you have any idea of how dirty some of them get? I love my people, I really do, but some of them are perverts. And some of them get kinda personal."

"How personal?"

"It'll be easier if I show you," Dean answered grimly.

"Fine. They can't be worse than what Gabriel sent me."

His husband's expression wasn't reassuring.

* * *

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	5. VOL 5: Halloween Special!

**Shout out to MeshackDiva, Cmccle01, RainbowFangirl101, The Communist Unicorn, Lauri Remaley, and Rege!**

 **I have to be honest with you, I hadn't posted in a few months partially due to real life being busy, partially because I was scratching my head as to what to do next. You owe thanks to kelseyjacobs67, they were kind enough to review Tats Trump 'Tude, but I became concerned for the welfare of those close to them. In an effort to avoid blood sacrifice, a plot bunny was discovered. Several, actually.**

 **But seriously, the hardest part with every update is the questions they do. Feel free to make suggestions. Please. Pretty please?**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"So, how goes it?"

"You'll have to be more specific."

Meg smirked at him over the rim of her glass, taking a sip of the liquor before drawling, "You know what I'm talking about, Clarence. Those videos? Where you're all sappy and domestic?"

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Castiel picked one of the two remaining potato skins off an appetizer plate, taking a bite. He chewed slowly, making Meg roll her eyes. Still, she waited, helping herself to the nachos.

"Not you too," he sighed at last, stalling still.

"Yes, me too. As one of your best friends I'm personally invested. You're happy, you're having fun, Dean's clearly having fun, and those are some of his most popular videos. Second only to the cooking ones. It's been a while, I'm curious."

He grimaced, nursing his own drink. "We've been busy. And we have done videos."

"You were the involved camera man of that Fourth of July dessert special. That's it."

"Dean had that panel at a convention in San Diego, remember? Then I spent the second half of the summer with the flu. It was hardly an enjoyable hiatus. Then they had me take over the computer class until Maria came back from maternity leave instead of bringing in a sub. There hadn't been time."

"Uh-huh. What about now?"

"You're not going to report my answer, are you? Or post it?"

Meg snorted. "Clarence, I haven't exploited my position before, I don't plan to start now. I still can't believe you have to deal with fans."

"Unfortunately," he sighed. He drummed his fingers on the table, then asked, "Want to try their pretzels?"

"I could go for pretzels, and another round."

Castiel signaled their waitress, who took their order for more food. Meg might be a good eight inches shorter than him, but her appetite could match his. She was one of his few friends, and at Dean's insistence he had started setting aside certain evenings to spend time with people who were neither coworkers nor his husband. He claimed it was healthy. In this case, it meant once a month he and Meg would go out, drink alcohol, and pig out on appetizers.

"Dean thought it would be a good idea to do holiday specials," he admitted around a mouthful of potato, cheese, and bacon. "I agreed. We're going to try shooting tomorrow since we finally have time."

Meg grinned. "Awesome. Can't wait."

"I'm just hoping we don't run into anyone we actually know," he sighed. "I think the only reason I've been able to do it up until now is because it's easy to think of there being no audience."

She just hummed, teasing a glob of cheese and guacamole onto a chip. "I wouldn't worry about it. When you get into it the stage fright shouldn't be a problem."

He opted not to respond to that, staring into his beer glass. In an attempt to avoid the morose mood starting to set in he asked, "How're things going with that guy? What's-his-name?"

Meg wrinkled her nose. "No dice. He was a clingy bastard who needed someone to mother him. I'm looking for fresh meat. It's a real shame, you know. All the good ones are taken, gay, or fictional."

"I can't help you there. Though you might try looking in places besides bars and clubs."

"Oh, like this one?"

"This one isn't so bad, but still."

"Then what would you recommend? We can't all find a sweetheart in college."

Castiel considered this for a moment. "Have you looked at the classes the community center has? There's a good variety."

She cocked an eyebrow at that. "Classes? Really?"

He shrugged. "You haven't tried it yet, have you? Besides, they have an interesting variety. The pottery class was fun, but Dean didn't like it the way I did. He did sign up for that one Japanese rope tying class. I think it was called shibari."

Meg's eyebrows shot up. "Really?" she drawled.

"He thought it was going to be like origami, or mizuhiki. He liked that one class where they did sailors knots, but he didn't realize just what it was until after he there."

"And you didn't mind?"

Castiel shrugged. "Not really. It was a…useful class."

"Didn't they bring in nude models, like for the body painting classes?" That one a mutual friend had taken.

"Yes. There's plenty of nudity in art, and that's what this was. Art. You might like it yourself, if they have another one."

"I might just do that," Meg mused. "It would be nice to add to my repertoire."

Castiel smiled a little, glancing down as his phone vibrated. He set it on the table, chuckling as he read the text.

 _Dean (8:12): I'm getting my ass handed to me. We need a double date to level the playing field._

He was tapping out a reply when she asked, "What's so funny?"

"I think we'll be having a double date next week with Charlie and Gilda."

"I take it his buddy night isn't going so well?"

He and Dean often coordinated their friends nights, today being one of those days. While he went out with Meg, Dean was currently in a battle royal via video game with Charlie, Gilda, and Sam. From the sound of it, he wasn't winning.

"What'll it be?"

"Lazer tag, I think. Have you been to the new escape rooms? I'd like to try them, but Dean's a little weary."

"Not yet. I've heard they're fun. Me and an ex did one in Dallas that one time. It was fun."

"That might be another problem, you know. All the ones that you say have potential are ones you meet on work trips. Ever think about keeping in touch with some of them?"

"Long distance isn't something that ever works out for me."

That was when their waitress came by with fresh drinks and a plate, whisking away the empty ones. The scent of warm pretzels drifted to his nose, a dish next to the sticks holding beer cheese. If memory served, they were every bit as delicious as they smelled.

Castiel had just drained the last of his beer, and was reaching for a pretzel, when someone approached their table. He turned, expecting the waitress again, but was surprised to see two other patrons. They looked young enough to barely make it through the door of the bar they were in, but sobor.

He had just enough time to note the glasses of specialty drinks in their hands before one of them was thrown in his face. He gasped, spluttering as alcohol and juice seeped through his shirt, hurridly wiping at his eyes, relieved none of it had actually gotten in them. When he could see clearly, Meg was on her feet and in the girl's face, impressive considering they had three inches on her.

"The hell is wrong with you?" she demanded, furious.

"Meg, don't," he protested, grabbing a napkin to wipe up the sugary liquid as best he could. He'd probably have to go to the bathroom to really get cleaned up, that glass had been almost full when it was brought over. He could already feel his shirt sticking to him.

"How could you?" the girl demanded, voice shrill. "What's wrong with you?" Her eyes were locked on him, ignoring Meg.

"What's wrong with _him?"_ his friend demanded. "Are you serious? You're the one throwing around drinks."

"How could you do that to him?"

Castiel blinked. "Him who? Do I know you?"

"Dean! How could you do this to Dean?"

"Oh you have got to be- "

"Please sit back down," he sighed, cutting Meg off. "I think there's been a misunderstanding. You watch Dean's channel, correct?"

"Yes, and I can't believe you would do this."

"That's because I haven't. Meg is a friend. I'm sharing food and drink with a friend. I'm not being unfaithful. Though I wish you would have asked before throwing your drink at me."

"You expect us to believe that?"

"It's none of your business to begin with," Meg quipped.

"No, it's not. But it seems they've taken offense." He carefully retrieved his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and placing it on an area of the table that hadn't just been wiped clean of drink. "What are your names?"

"Why?" the drink thrower asked suspiciously. For what it was worth, her friend looked a little flustered for all she had looked just as upset previously.

"I'm going to prove to you that you assumed incorrectly."

"Has this happened before?" Meg demanded. "Is that why you're so calm?"

"This is actually preferable to when I was at that coffee shop with Charlie. They threw a latte at me before it was explained she's a lesbian."

Meg winced at that. "Ouch."

"Your names? Just your first ones." He opened his address book, then opened Dean's contact.

"Um, Tiffany, and she's Gina," the less aggressive friend provided helpfully.

Castiel nodded, then tapped his husband's number. He put it on speaker, waiting as it rang. It rang four times before Dean picked up.

"You need a D.D. already? Hey, I said pause it! Cheater."

A distant "You weren't winning anyway!" was heard, along with explosions and gunfire before it cut off abruptly.

"No, not yet. I met some more of your fans. They seem very concerned."

"Concerned how?"

"That I'm being a blatantly philandering spouse."

Dean paused, then asked, "Seriously?"

"I'm afraid so."

Meg, who'd resumed her seat, leaned over to chip in. "They threw a drink on him and everything. It was just like a movie, Dean-o. You really need to make an announcement or something, poor Clarence can't have friends without someone accusing him of adultery. I didn't think YouTubers had this kind of fan. It might not annoy him, but it's annoying me. And you know what happens when I'm annoyed."

"Yeah, I know," Dean sighed. "Don't unleash the hounds just yet, alright? Cas, you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just sticky. You're on speaker with Tiffany and Gina. They're the ones that took offense."

"Wait, so you know about her?" Gina blurted.

"Yeah, I know. Meg is a friend. Married people are allowed to have friends, you know. It's healthy. Even if it wasn't, I trust him. And even if something might happen, it won't be with Meg. That'd be like kissing her brother."

"True," Meg affirmed, toasting the phone with her new glass.

"Now would you leave him alone? Seriously. I appreciate the dedication and all, but you can't treat him like that."

"I'm sorry, we just got a little worried," Tiffany admitted hurridly.

"You the one who threw the drink on Cas?"

"No, sir."

"Please don't call me sir," Dean groaned. "And don't apologize to me, I'm not the one you insulted. Apologize to him."

While it was satisfying, seeing the look on Gina's face as it finally hit home, it was never as satisfying than one would think. "I…I'm sorry. I just thought…"

"It's fine," Castiel said as she trailed off. "Just, perhaps in the future, ask before you throw drinks?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, again."

"I'm not sir, either."

Tiffany apologized again as she dragged her friend off.

"Perhaps an announcement would be useful. This is becoming irritating," Castiel sighed. The pretzels were still warm, thankfully, as he picked one up. He dipped the end of one in the cheese, giving it a swirl before removing it and taking a bite.

"Do you need me to come and get you? I can. What did she throw at you, anyway?"

"Some sort of mixed drink. Lots of sugar. It's fine, it's not that bad."

"You smell like a luau."

"Thank you, Meg. I am going to eat my pretzels, I am going to clean up in the bathroom, then I'm going to order something stronger than beer. Don't you have a video game to get back to?"

"Yeah. Just text me when Meg drinks you under the table."

"Your confidence is remarkable," Castiel grumbled around a mouthful of pretzel.

He hung up, returning the phone to his pocket.

Meg nudged the drink menu over to him as she took one of the other pretzels. "My treat. Pick something."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. Technically it was my fault, even if they were the ones being idiots."

Castiel studied the menu as he nibbled his soft pretzel, pointing to one of the options that looked most appealing. He deliberately finished his food before he went to the bathroom, using some wet paper towels to clean off most of what remained of the thrown drink. He was still damp when he went back to the table, but far less sticky.

As he was going back to their booth, Castiel came to the conclusion that if Dean did decide to make some kind of warning-off announcement, he'd let him. This was getting ridiculous. At least this time a favorite shirt hadn't been ruined.

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

"Ready, babe?"

Castiel turned the camera over in his hands as Dean pulled into a parking space. "Yes. Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah. Very. You should 'a told me it was that bad. I didn't think the fans were being mean to you."

"It was only a few times. You remembered the list?"

Dean reached into his coat pocket, removing a folded sheet of paper. Then he reached into another pocket, pulling out another. "Yep. The question list, and the grocery list."

Castiel worried his lip, leaning down a bit to peer out of the Impala's window at the store they were parked outside. "Are you sure about this? I'd be happy to remain behind the camera."

"It'll be just like the park. Don't think about it too much. Besides, it'll be fun. When me and Sammy did this, it got a lot of love."

Yes, and Castiel remembered which one, too. It had been one of those done while his brother was visiting. A shopping trip while Dean picked up things for a recipe that required very specific kinds of ingredients. For some reason people seemed to like this sort of thing.

"You're thinking too much again." A warm hand settled over his, giving it a squeeze. "Wanna put it off?"

"No," Castiel sighed. "We've put this off long enough. Besides, we've come this far." Not only were they sitting outside the store, it was a store they'd driven two towns over to visit. They'd even timed it so they'd be there mere minutes after opening. Something Dean had offered to minimize the risk of running into people they knew. He turned his hand over, giving Dean's a squeeze before releasing it. He turned on the camera, aiming it at his husband's face, scooting farther away on the seat to center him in a wider frame. "Action."

"What's up world? Your friendly neighborhood Batman is back. It's with great pleasure I bring you volume five, a Halloween special. I know how you guys love these things. Cas and I are here at the store, we're going to raid their holiday section. Our decorations have gone to crap, and then there's the candy stash. Some for us, some for the trick-or-treaters. But before we go in, I have a request to make."

Dean took off his sunglasses, squared ones he liked because they reminded him of the movie-star kind, and looked directly into the camera.

"I know you guys mean well. And your enthusiasm is appreciated. But the other night someone made an assumption. It's not the first time, either. I can't believe I have to say this, but even if you think something is happening, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't assault Cas. That includes throwing drinks on him. Come on guys, seriously. Do you have any idea how much work it took to get him out of the house on a regular schedule for socialization?"

"Hey," Castiel protested from behind the camera.

"You are a self-admitted homebody who would order groceries if I wasn't the one who did the shopping." Focusing back on the camera, Dean stated, "In my experience, an introvert only engages in social interactions for two reasons. One, they were coerced. Two, an extrovert met them, liked them, and adopted them. Castiel is a grown man, he can have drinks with a friend if he wants to. I encourage it. Some of the friends he has I've introduced him to."

"I think you regret introducing me to a few of them," Castiel chuckled.

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, well, you win some, you lose some. Anyway, my point is…if you want to talk to us, say hi or whatever, that's okay. We're happy to talk to you, take selfies, or whatever. In fact, we enjoy it. But please don't make assumptions, and don't do things based on those assumptions." He paused for a second, then looked at Castiel over the camera. "Sound good?"

"That should do. Thank you."

His husband smiled, sliding the glasses back onto his nose. "Let's roll."

Castiel climbed out of the Impala, getting a shot of the store before focusing on Dean as they made their way into the Target. They made their way through the parking lot, passed the red balls outside, through the electric doors. Dean pulled out one of the buggies, but Castiel slowed down as they passed the dollar section.

"Oh yeah, I think this is his favorite section," Dean chuckled. "We could come here for milk and shaving cream, and he'd find something here."

"What? Look at this," Castiel urged. He picked up a figure of a raven, wearing a top hat and waistcoat decorated in little pumpkins and skulls. It was a cheap thing, but he thought it was rather cute.

"I'm supposed to be the bad one, remember?"

"You are the bad one. Generally. But we have different weaknesses."

Dean sighed. "What would you do with it?"

"I'd put it on my desk. All I've had for years is that pumpkin you keep reminding me is looking tired."

"Alright, put it in."

Castiel set it in the buggy as they rolled on. He did manage to get passed that section without picking up anything else, at least. His husband was right, it was something of a weakness.

As they made their way passed the clothing section Dean opened both lists. "We need eggs, milk, dryer sheets, chamomile tea, and bread. You wanna ask the first question?"

"Not particularly."

Dean gave him a deadpan look, then snapped the list out. "'Who would be the first to die in a horror movie?' I think that'd be you, actually."

"On what grounds?"

"Because if a creepy girl crawled out of our TV, you'd probably start poking at her to see if she was real. Then ask if she was alright, then she'd do her seven days spiel. Boom, dead. Freddie Kruger could show up and you'd start trying to take his hands apart. Boom, dead. If Jason charges out of the woods with a chainsaw, you're going to lecture him about running with a freaking chainsaw. That thing people have in their head that tells them something's scary? I don't think you have that."

"I have that," Castiel protested.

"No, you don't. I'm sorry, but you don't. The only thing that gets you are jump-scares."

"And I suppose your method is better? Bashing and hacking and shooting any threat?"

"Well yeah, I can't die if the bad guy is dead."

"What if you die trying to kill them?"

"At least I knew I went out swinging, and maybe I put a few dents in him along the way."

Castiel knew better than to keep going. This wasn't the first time they'd had such a discussion, not that the viewers knew that. "What's the next question?"

Dean passed him the paper, and Castiel read it off.

"'Who would be more likely to be bitten by a vampire/werewolf/zombie? Which would you rather get bitten by?' That one is you, I think."

"Why?"

"Because my personal bubble is bigger than yours." He rotated the camera, holding it at arm's length and turning the side panel to make sure he was lined up in the frame. "My love life was limited prior to Dean because I was a self-admitted recluse. He was more social. He was a part of school clubs. He attended parties, clubs. As I understand it, he also vetted potential love interests far less thoroughly. It really wouldn't be that hard for a vampire or werewolf to get close enough to bite him."

"Seriously?" Dean groaned. "Did you have to tell them that?"

"What?" Castiel turned, aiming the camera back at his husband. "I was aware of your past behavior, but providing you were monogamous in your relationship with me I had no issue with it."

"Remember what I said about PG?"

"I'm aware. That was PG. Would you like me to elaborate and bring up the rating?"

"No," Dean sighed. "But you got it wrong. Yeah, you're a homebody, but your sense of personal space ain't what most people would call fine-tuned."

"It's one way, something you've complained about ad nauseum," Castiel countered. "I have difficulty gauging it when I'm the one invading, but I dislike people being too close to me."

"And I don't?"

"You're not as sensitive as me, and you're more inclined to be polite when you feel your boundaries are being crossed."

"So you think a vampire would be more likely to get a better chance at getting me than you?"

"Yes, I think I've made that clear."

"I don't think you'd notice a werewolf stalking you until it was too late. So how about I get the vamp, you get the werewolf, sound fair?"

Castiel considered that, then inclined his head. "Those terms are acceptable. I don't think either of us would get bitten by a zombie, though."

"Yeah, no. But which one would you _rather_ get bitten by?"

"None."

"You gatta choose. Werewolf, vampire, or zombie?"

"Werewolf, I suppose. Being a zombie has the least appeal, and I don't fancy being undead. Immortality is preferable. Vampires…I don't like the idea of having to drink blood. If I can retain some degree of control once transformed, I would rather take my chances with the werewolf."

"Vampire," Dean stated bluntly. "I wanna be Dracula."

"Don't expect to use me as a donner. What's the next question?"

"'Do you ever dress up for Halloween? If so, do you ever do couple's costumes?'" Dean read. When he looked up, worry crossed his face. "What?"

Rather than answer right away, Castiel passed him the camera, taking over pushing the cart to guide it down the isle of teas and coffees. "Yes, we dress up. Dean also decorates our house extensively each year. We've done couples costumes every year, once we can agree on something."

"That's harder than you think," Dean chipped in as chamomile tea was added to their cart.

"Because sometimes we can't agree on who's going to be who. It took years before we finally agreed on that Dr. Who combination. At least when we did wizards it was easy. You were Gryffindor, I was Hufflepuff."

"Yeah, I forgot about that," his husband chuckled. "We eventually haggled it out. I would be the Doctor, he would be the Tardis. We got him a blue trench coat and everything. I had a fez. It was fun. Then there was Captain America and Iron Man, Malcom Reynolds and Simon Tam, zombies, Spock and Kirk, cowboys…what am I forgetting?" Those were their most recent costumes, but he knew there had been others. Even when they'd been dating Halloween had been fun, for all it had been more budgeted.

"Peter Pan and Captain Hook, Batman and Robin, Buzz Lightyear and Woody, ketchup and mustard." That last one had been their first year together, true budget costumes. Essentially just red and yellow clothes and hats. He still had the cowboy costumes, actually. Dean loved them. He'd been Woody, obviously, but he had very much enjoyed seeing Castiel dressed from head to toe like someone out of a wild west movie. When he wanted to surprise him, or do something special for a birthday, he'd still put the costume on, not that he told anyone.

"So, yeah. I don't think we meant to do it, we just kinda did, and we had fun with it." Dean looked at the list, trailing after Castiel. "Your turn."

He guided the cart through the isle that had laundry detergents on the way to the cold food section, grabbing a box of dryer sheets. As they went back onto the main isle he looked over, reading off the fourth question. "'Do you hand out candy every year?' Yes. But we have to get two bags."

"What?" Dean protested at the accusatory look sent his way.

"You tell me to hide the second bag so you won't eat it." Looking to the camera he stated, "He keeps stealing from the bag we leave out. The first time I didn't take precautions he ate everything before the trick-or-treating even started."

Dean looked decidedly miffed, deliberately looking at the list. "'How different was your first Halloween together compared to your Halloweens now?' Well, we can do the costumes we want, for one. And we can afford that second bag of candy. We have a house to decorate instead of an apartment. We can have fun with it."

"I don't know, I think I miss working with limited resources. It made things interesting." They were still frugal, living within their means, careful in what they chose to splurge on. But if they wanted to do something, they could. It hadn't been a luxury they'd always enjoyed. Still, he took solace in knowing they could make it work. Money and sex were two of the highest offenders when it came to relationship problems. He knew they could survive when money was tight, he knew nothing would change when there was a gradual increase, and he knew nothing would change when there was a sudden influx. They weren't rich, not monetarily, but since Dean's career had taken off they'd had far more than they'd started with. Castiel was proud of him, was happy to see his husband doing something he enjoyed that doubled as a solid career.

He blinked out of his stupor, reaching up to take down a carton of eggs for examination as Dean stepped back to film him. He wasn't sure why, perhaps for filler? But once he'd found a dozen that passed muster, he took the list and the camera as Dean took over their buggy.

"'What are your favorite parts about Halloween?'"

"Candy, getting to dress up, and getting to spook-up the house."

"So most of it?"

"Pretty much."

"I think we can agree you enjoy the candy more than I do," Castiel admitted. "The house is more your territory, but I do enjoy helping you."

"Yeah?" Dean set a gallon of milk in the cart, coming over to take the camera again. "What else?"

Castiel considered, head tilted. "I like the concept, I suppose. Skeletons and ghouls and Jack o' Lanterns and monsters. I enjoy being able to dress up, to be someone else for a while. I enjoy the process of finding a costume, of putting them together with you, going out with you. I suppose part of the reason I enjoy it is because you enjoy it, and I like having fun with you."

Dean ducked his head, shuffling his feet before grabbing the buggy and marching it a few isles over, grabbing a loaf of bread. "Ready to hit the Halloween section?"

He smiled fondly over the camera. "Yes, Dean." He found it sweet when his husband got flustered, especially when he'd learned these parts weren't edited out.

The camera caught Dean's face as they turned a corner into the holiday section at the back of the store, and Castiel smiled affectionately as his husband visibly lit up. Like a kid in a candy store. He picked up speed, all but scurrying over to the first row of themed merchandise.

"What's the next question?"

"Huh? Oh. In a second." Dean was already sticking his hand into a bowl with one of those mechanical hands attached, which would lower down whenever you did just that. A groan intoned from the bowl as he yanked his hand back out, moving on to an old-fashioned rotary phone. He dialed a few numbers, then lifted the receiver.

It had started ringing when he'd moved in front of it, but as soon as the receiver left the cradle a menacing cackle came from it, followed by, "I know who you are," and more laughing.

Dean moved on to poking other demo buttons when Castiel prompted, "Dean, these things never last, remember? At least give me the list."

"Yeah, right. Uh, 'Do you know each other's favorite costumes? What are your actual favorites?'"

"Your favorites have been anything cowboy related."

Dean finally turned away from the shelves to frown at his husband. "You don't know that."

"I do," Castiel deadpanned. "What do you think mine have been?"

He considered that for a minute, then decided, "Toss up, between Hufflepuff and Spock."

"Is that your final answer?"

Dean's eyes narrowed at him suspiciously, but said slowly, "Yeah."

"Mmm. Was I correct?"

His husband grimaced. "Yeah. Captain America was a close second, but…cowboys." Castiel was smiling as he added, "What about you?"

"Close. Being a zombie was my second favorite, Spock was first."

"So I was partially right." He passed over the list, turning his attention to the wall where an assortment of hanging decorations were arranged. Castiel took it, looking at the questions as Dean returned to poking around.

"'Do you have a favorite monster?'"

"David Yeager," they said in perfect unison.

Dean turned, eyes narrowed. "You don't like those movies. You complain whenever I re-watch them every year."

"I don't. I'm partial to different classics. But you love them. He's your favorite."

"Oh. Yeah. Right. Ain't yours the mummy? The first one?"

"Yes, Boris Karloff. The first incarnation. The newer ones are good too, but I'm partial to the classics."

"We've got a bunch of black and white movies at home."

"Right next to your Westerns." Castiel looked at the next isle, and heaved an irritated sigh. "Why must they do this? They're completely anatomically incorrect."

Dean just grinned, picking up the skeleton spider. "What? It's supposed to be scary and fun. Skeletons are scary."

"They're just animals without the meat."

"And how is that not scary if they're walking around without their meat?"

Castiel passed him the camera, taking the spider decoration and holding it up. "Look at this. It's a travesty. Spiders don't even have bones. What sort of example is this to children?"

"Alright, what about this?" Dean asked, turning the camera to skeleton cats and dogs.

"Their ears are cartilage, their noses are just flesh, and they wouldn't retain expressions."

"How about this?" Dean turned to a hanging snake next. "It looks about right."

"I think it's the only one that is," Castiel grumbled.

"Awesome." The snake skeleton was added to the cart. "Want one of the human skeletons too? You can't tell me they're not anatomically correct."

They'd added several more lawn decorations to the cart, and were moving towards the projectors when Dean looked down at the list. "Two more left, Cas. 'Have you ever played Bloody Mary? If so, what happened?'"

"Have you?" Castiel asked absently, studying the projector that would have ghosts dancing over the front of their house.

"No, I ain't going to risk some chick reaching through a mirror to kill me. Why? Have you?"

"Yes. At a slumber party in middle school, on a dare. Nothing came of it, though they did try to prank me."

"Prank you how?"

"Someone tripped the breaker to the bathroom so the power went out, they locked the door and started pounding on the door and window. The boy who's house we were at had an older sister. She'd been hiding in the tub, her hair was wet and she was covered in fake blood. When they turned the breaker back on she was standing right next to me. Which two do you think we should get?"

"Wait, what happened after that?" Dean asked, sounding worried. When Castiel looked at his husband, green eyes were studying him over the camera.

"I screamed. They unlocked the door. I ran home."

"You ran home?" Dean repeated, brow furrowed. "How far was that?"

"Five blocks. They made fun of me, especially after our parents found out. Everyone was grounded. It wasn't pleasant. I found out later the only reason they invited me was so they could do that." He picked up the ghost projector, putting it in their cart. Then he held up the one with green bats and one with an orange haunted house surrounded by bats. "Which one do you think?"

Dean lowered the camera, clicking the recording button into the off position as he did so. "You never told me about that before."

Castiel shrugged, staring down at the boxes. "I did tell you I was bullied at school. You knew that. It got better when we moved to a different part of town and I started high school."

"Yeah, but you never told me about what sparked everything. Was that it?"

When he nodded, Dean set down the camera, then reached over to take the boxes out of his hands. Castiel frowned as they were set aside, finally raising his gaze to peer into his face as a hand settled on the side of his neck, thumb stroking his jaw.

"Why haven't you told me about this before?"

Castiel shrugged, mouth set in a grim line, an old wound giving a painful tug. "It wasn't a part of my life I enjoyed, or was proud of. It's funny, I was never bullied because I was gay, it was just because I was odd. They thought I was weird."

"That ain't funny. That's messed up."

"Maybe. I didn't tell you the details because I found it embarrassing, and…I didn't want you to see me that way. Why do you think I'm so introverted? I've always been that way, I never saw the point in pretending I enjoyed something for the sake of blending in. I only went to that party because Gabriel thought it would be a good idea. He was sick, that's why he wasn't there. After that, it was as much about being safe as not seeing the point."

Dean didn't say anything. He shuffled forward a step, the hand on Castiel's neck pulling him close, the other arm wrapping around him tightly. Castiel buried his face in his neck, hands fisting in the back of his shirt.

"We're gonna talk about this when we get home, ya hear?" He waited until Castiel nodded against him, then said, "I'm gonna take that out, alright? There's backup questions we can pick from."

"No." Castiel pulled away, but didn't let go. "Let it stay."

"There's already the announcement in there, we don't have to. I ain't gonna do anything more than you're comfortable with. That's always been the rule, you know that."

"I know. This isn't more than I'm uncomfortable with. It's the truth. It might not be a good part of my life, but it's still part of it. Maybe it'll be a good thing. Maybe it'll help someone, knowing I was bullied too. Besides, maybe it'll also make people that much more reluctant to throw drinks at me."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." Smiling, he leaned up on his toes so he could lightly kiss Dean's forehead. "I appreciate your concern, love."

Dean didn't say anything, but he did peck his husband's cheek, giving him a squeeze before stepping out of the embrace. He picked up the camera again, but hesitated. Only when Castiel smiled at him, picking up the boxes he'd been holding before and saying, "Action," did he start recording again.

"So your middle school was full of dicks. At least they're not all like that. How about the haunted house?"

Castiel nodded, putting that one in the cart and replacing the bats projector on the shelf. "It's been a while, but I'm assuming not." Looking at the camera he suggested, "Why don't you comment? It would be peace of mind to know if I was in the minority."

He took it as a good sign when Dean smiled and gave him a thumbs up from behind the camera.

"What's the last question?" he asked, moving to the shelves full of candy bags.

Dean passed him the paper, going to study the options.

"'Would you be willing to try on a straitjacket for $100?' This sounds like a dare."

"Yeah, well, fifty people asked some variation of it."

"Would you?"

"Dunno. If I let someone do it there won't be a guarantee of them letting me out again. I can see you and Sammy just letting me stay that way for a few hours. If it's more than $100, maybe."

"And if it's not me or Sam?"

"Yep." He took down a bag, setting it in the buggy.

"Mmm. I think it'd be the opposite." He selected a second bag, adding it to the cart before going around to push it onward. "I would do it, but only if it was someone I knew would let me out again."

"Like who?"

"You. Sam. Meg. Mary."

"Not Gabriel?"

"Gabriel would let me out, but only after he got a good laugh out of it. I'd prefer to avoid that."

"True. You know you're gonna hear about this?"

"Probably."

They added a few more decorations to their cart before heading for the checkout, dumping the assortment of kitchen staples, candy, skeletons, and Jack o' Lantern lights on the belt. Castiel was happy to leave the actual putting up of the decorations to Dean, but he did enjoy the results. At least Dean himself was happy to do it, so he didn't feel guilty about it.

Castiel took over the camera as they left the store, transferring bags to Baby's trunk before climbing back into her front seat.

"Okay, I think that was more than we planned on getting, but I'm not complaining," Dean announced.

"No, I guessed we'd end up with a cart full," Castiel admitted.

"How?"

"Because we always end up with more than you estimate."

"Just with stuff like this, right?"

"Just with stuff like this."

"Good to know." He shifted sideways, so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, and tilting the camera so they were both in the frame. "Well, we've got a lot of work to do- _I've_ got a lot of work to do. You're gonna feed me before you put me to work, right?"

"Yes, I'll feed you. But you only get pie after."

Dean turned a stricken look on the camera. "I married a slave driver."

"I'd hardly a slave driver," Castiel huffed. "Feel free to comment on whether or not you agree."

"Next thing you know you'll be confiscating the candy."

"Perhaps you shouldn't give me ideas."

"Okay, that's enough for today!" was his over-jovial announcement, smiling widely at the camera. "If you have any question requests, feel free to re-tweet or comment. Especially if they're Thanksgiving or Christmas related, we're going to try doing something for those too. Assuming Cas is game."

"Don't look at me like that," he sighed. "If there are enough questions, and enough requests, I will do it."

"You heard him, the fate of future holiday specials is in your hands. If you like what you see, like, comment, and subscribe down below. Stay safe, Gotham!"

Castiel waited until the camera was turned off, Dean stowing it and asking, "Lunch then home?"

"Sounds good," he agreed. Then he leaned in, until he was close enough his nose brushed his ear to murmur, "You know what I'm going to do while you're decorating the house?"

Dean's hands had gone still, one on the wheel one on the keys. "What?"

"Remember the cowboy outfit? It's been a while since I've worn it, I'd like to see if it still fits." It had only been a few months, of course the thing fit, but his statement had the desired effect.

His husband cleared his throat, cranking the engine. "So, drive thru? Or are you even hungry?"

"Starving." He chuckled when Dean pouted, pecking his cheek. "Are you going to take pictures when you're done?"

"I was thinking about it. Tonight, when everything's lit up."

Castiel's lips twitched up in a smile as they pulled out of the parking space, Led Zeppelin erupting from the speakers. He knew it was as much an excuse as it was fact, but he wasn't about to call Dean on it. He knew they'd still have that talk, but he couldn't bring himself to mind.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	6. VOL 6: Thanksgiving Special!

**Shout out to Rege and The Communist Unicorn!**

 **I know, it's a day or two later than I planned on posting, but hey it's here! And before Cyber Monday, too!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"You're sure Raphael can't make it?"

"He's with his wife's family this year," Castiel promised for what felt like the hundredth time.

"You know the only reason I'm doing this is for your mom's cooking and so I can say I spent Thanksgiving with Satan, right?"

"Yes, Dean."

He slammed the Impala's trunk shut, bracing his hands on the hood. "You ready?"

Castiel glanced at his watch. They had a seven-hour drive ahead of them, they needed to get going if they were to make Pontiac by tonight. As it was he worried they weren't leaving enough margin, they were hardly going to be the only ones out on the roads this time of year. It was Wednesday, they would drive up today, spend the holiday with Castiel's family, and drive back on Black Friday. It had worked in years passed, and they'd have the weekend to relax before getting back into the rhythm of things. Particularly if all his brothers came. Chuck Novak was a little odd, and spent a little too much time in the bottle, but he was friendly enough. Hanna Novak was a pleasant woman, capable of simultaneously maintaining that sweet disposition while retaining an iron hand on the somewhat rowdy members of her family. Dean himself had gone through something of a trial by fire, but at some point she'd decided to accept him, at which time the pies and Christmas presents had begun.

Raphael and Michael were something else. Castiel wasn't sure what had caused it, but neither liked Dean, or Sam for that matter. Lucifer wasn't Dean's biggest fan either, but he seemed to take a special delight in poking at the younger Winchester. Aside from Gabriel, he was the most tolerant of them.

Thankfully, having their own lives and their own families meant they were around less, even for holidays. Dean and Castiel weren't the only ones who rotated out. This year, they would spend Thanksgiving with the Novak's, then they would go to Mary's house for Christmas. So would Sam and Gabriel.

This particular year just so happened to fall when Raphael would be with his wife's family. So would Michael. Something Castiel knew very well was Hanna's doing. That just left them with Lucifer, who was always in a more manageable mood when it was his turn to have the kids. Castiel wasn't sure why he and Lilith thought it was a good idea to get married, it had only lasted six years. Frankly that was five years and six months longer than he'd given it, but then they were both stubborn. The only good things that came out of that marriage were Ruby and Alfie. Well…maybe just Alfie. Castiel hated to say it, but he could see it already. Lucifer wasn't diagnosed, but he had sociopathic tendencies. Something his daughter had apparently inherited. Even if she was just eight years old.

"You filled the cooler, right?"

"Yes, I filled the cooler. And I stocked the snacks. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm ready. Let's go."

Castiel waited until they were both in the Impala, Dean pulling them out of the driveway, to ask, "When should we start?"

"Let's get out of town first."

He hummed, sitting back in his seat, pulling a book from the shoulder bag he kept in the front seat with him. He did get a shot of them passing the sign that thanked them for visiting Sioux Falls, along with a few road markers along the way. Filler footage that would be interesting.

He'd just gotten a shot of a license plate reading 'WYSOBLU' affixed to the cobalt car Dean was passing when his husband asked, "Wanna start the questions now or wait?"

Castiel considered this. "We can do some now, then more whenever you get bored."

"Fine. Where's the list?"

After pulling the piece of paper from the same bag he'd stowed his book in, placing it on the seat between them, Castiel set about affixing the camera to a mount on Baby's dash. They'd tested it before they got on the road, but he still made sure they were both in the frame before scooting closer to Dean. Question sheet in hand, he hit the record button. "Ready when you are."

Dean glanced up from the road long enough to give the camera a smile, but most of his attention was on the traffic around them. As it should be. They'd agreed it would be best, to set a good example. "What's up world? Your friendly neighborhood Batman is back with a Thanksgiving special. I know, I don't do these much, this time of year is freaking insane, but I'm making an exception. Cas and me are on the road to visit his family for the holidays, but we're gonna answer some questions along the way." He glanced over at his husband, nudging him with an elbow.

Castiel just gave him a blank look. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to add to that."

"Fair enough. Just start with the first question. Oh, and uh, what's the ETA?"

He picked up his phone from where it lay on the seat, checking his GPS app. "Approximately six hours, fifteen minutes until we arrive at my parent's house."

"Awesome. Question one?"

"'What is your favorite Thanksgiving food?' The next one asks about desserts specifically, so I'm assuming they're referring to the main course?"

"Yep. It had to be done."

"Fine. I think your favorite food is the ham, or the sweet potato casserole, but I could be wrong."

"If they're done properly, then yes you're right," Dean confirmed. "It's a tie."

"That explains why you don't like Gabriel's," Castiel mused.

"Because Sammy makes him put nuts in it," he protested. "It ain't natural. And he uses bigger marshmallows, they don't work as well."

"So when it's made without nuts and with an half inch-thick layer of mini-marshmallows on top, the sweet potato casserole is tied with the ham?"

"Exactly. You just really like the cranberry dressing."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. So long as you don't eat it straight out of the can."

"That was one time, and it was after an utterly atrocious day, and you know it," Castiel informed him stiffly. Looking to the camera, he added, "Homemade cranberry dressing is better, usually. When that's unavailable I am partial to the canned version."

"It's true, your Mom makes a mean cranberry dressing. Alright, second question, desserts. What's your favorite Thanksgiving dessert?"

"Pumpkin bread," Castiel responded promptly. "With cream cheese frosting. Considering you eat your weight in pumpkin pie and whipped cream ever year, I'm assuming that's your favorite?"

"I don't eat _that_ much," Dean protested, sounding miffed.

Castiel turned his best deadpan expression to the camera. "Three times since I have been romantically attached to this person, he has walked out of a grocery store having cleared out every single pumpkin pie and every single can of whipped cream currently on their shelves. They had to make announcements over the P.A. system to announce the terrible news. People wailed. Clothes were torn."

"It wasn't that bad. It's never been that bad."

"Children wept."

"Hey, if children had actually wept, I would have put some back."

"How chivalrous of you."

That got him a dirty look, which Castiel returned with an unrepentant one of his own.

"Alright, turn it off," Dean grumbled, turning up Led Zeppelin.

Castiel took down the camera, turning it off and stowing it. "I was joking."

"I know."

After a long moment of scrutiny, Castiel leaned back over the seat to pull a bag of jerky from the snack bag. Lime siracha flavored. The more artificial the flavor the more Dean loved it, he considered the stuff must-have road food. His nose actually twitched when Castiel ripped open the bag, fishing out a piece and wiggling it under his said appendage.

"Are you bribing me with jerky?"

"Yes. Is it working?"

Dean glared at him, then bit into the jerky. Castiel smiled, leaving him to gnaw on that as he went back to his book. He nibbled on a few M&M's, but left most of the snacking to Dean.

It was roughly forty-five minutes before Dean got bored again, so Castiel reset the camera.

"Alright, question number three. 'Were you ever in a Thanksgiving play at school?'"

"I was not, and I don't think I missed much. Sam had to, because it was a different school, but he did good. He made a cute Pilgrim."

"He's going to be angry with you for saying that."

"Why do you think I said it?"

Rolling his eyes, Castiel turned to the camera. "Like Sam I too was obliged to participate in a Thanksgiving play. Unfortunately, at that school everyone from kindergarten through fifth grade had to. It wouldn't have been so bad, but at the time they hadn't renewed the costumes, props, or lines for over two decades. It was stilted, unpleasant, very boring. Naturally we were berated for being bored. It could have been an enjoyable experience, but they ensured it wasn't. Please comment and let me know this wasn't the case for everyone. Give me hope."

"Ouch," Dean winced. "That bad?"

"That bad," Castiel sighed. "Question four. 'What's your favorite part of Thanksgiving?' I think yours would be the food."

"Okay, first of all, you're no better. Second, it ain't. It's second favorite. I like being able to take time off to hang out with family. And all the food."

"Agreed." Castiel reached up, taking down the camera. As soon as it was turned off he stated, "That was bull crap for the kids, wasn't it."

"Not completely. I like being able to hang out with family. I just couldn't tell them I only liked being able to hang out with certain family. You're the same way."

"I know," Castiel sighed. "I hate all the traveling, I hate being surrounded by so many people, I hate having to put up with family drama, I hate the hustle and bustle and crowds and traffic…." He trailed off, face dropping into his hands. "I'm a terrible human being and I don't even care."

"You're not terrible," Dean assured him. "You just get stressed out by crowds, and Thanksgiving is inherently stressful, and it just spirals. I'm no different, Cas, and you know it. It's fine. I really don't think we're alone, but I gatta be careful about what I say, ya know?"

Castiel lifted his head enough to offer a weak smile. "I know."

"Didn't you pack some Ding-Dong's? I think we could both use some Ding-Dong's."

He wasn't wrong about that. A few pastries and a few early Christmas songs on the radio helped ease the tension. As they slogged on through some knots of traffic, Castiel got a shot of a 'SPLD RTN' license plate affixed to an honest to gods pink convertible. He and Dean agreed that yes, the driver was indeed spoiled rotten, but perhaps doing something about it would be better than boasting the fact.

"I don't remember there being this many interesting license plates on the road last year."

"There weren't. I guess we're just getting lucky. Besides, more cars, more chances at interesting plates," Dean pointed out. "At least it's entertaining."

"It would be more entertaining if she'd merged when she was supposed to."

"Hey, I'm the driver, I'm the one who's supposed to get mad at the morons who can't drive. You're supposed to boost moral and feed me and crap."

Castiel folded his arms, glaring at the convertible. Instead of merging to one lane for roadwork as the signs had indicated, and as the majority of sensible drivers had, she'd gone to the very end and forced her way over, right in front of them too. He hated it when people did that. It slowed up already sluggish traffic.

"You wanna do some more questions? I'm going all of ten miles an hour right now."

"Fine," Castiel sighed, taking out the paper and camera. Once everything was set up, he started recording again and read, "Fifth question, 'Have you ever had to fly during Thanksgiving?'"

"I haven't, obviously."

"You would drive to Hawaii if you could."

"I would. What about you? Didn't you have to fly home a few times during college?"

"I only did that once. After that I either limited my holiday travels to Christmas or took a bus. There were storms, flights were delayed, I spent the night in an airport, it was complete and utter chaos. I don't know how people do it and I refuse to do it again anytime soon."

"Hey, you're not getting any complaints from me. Question six?"

"'Do you ever participate in Black Friday? If so, what's the best deal you ever got?'" Castiel slowly lifted his gaze from the paper, turning a glare on his husband.

"What?" When all he got was more glaring, Dean sighed. "You're still mad about that?"

"I believe 'irked' would be a better word. And yes."

"It was years ago."

Turning to the camera, Castiel explained, "He had his heart set on getting this big screen TV, and this one store had a really good sell on it. This was back when we had to save up for things, we'd already graduated college and we had work, but we were at the bottom of our respective totem poles. We had a slightly better apartment, but we were still using the same poorly constructed, cheap furniture we'd had before. At the time the table our old TV was on could barely hold it, and only because it was small."

"It was one of those that had a built-in VHS player, just to give you an idea," Dean supplied.

"Yes. Well, at the time I thought we had similar priorities. Like getting a car to replace the lemon I had at the time. It had so many problems the repairs were beginning to outweigh the car's worth. Not to mention various other things. There was a laundry list. But then he finds out that a big tech store was having a sale on these big screen TV's for Black Friday. Bear in mind that the only reason I participate in it now is because I can do so from the comfort of my computer. I have never braved the hordes, nor do I plan to. Ever. Nothing is worth it."

"We'll see."

"No, you won't." Sparing his husband an irritated look, he refocused on the camera. "So he goes over there halfway through Thanksgiving day with Sam, whom he roped into his scheme, and waits in line. Both of them spend money they barely have on these big TV's. Sam leaves his in the car to be driven home, and they carry this monstrosity up to our apartment and attempt to set it on the table serving as a TV stand. The old, rickety, barely standing TV stand. Guess what happened?"

"In my defense, I didn't think there was that much of a difference in weight."

"Of course there was a difference! It creaked when you looked at it." Huffing, Castiel continued, "The moment they set it down, the stand broke and the TV fell screen-first on the floor. Honestly I was amazed it survived."

Dean shot him a sharp look. "You call that 'survived'?"

"Yes. There was only a small crack in one corner of the screen, and the dints in the frame didn't hinder its purpose. I didn't mind the TV itself, Dean, I minded that you spent our money without consulting me first."

"When have I done that since?" Dean protested.

"Never. And I'm glad. I just wish it didn't take an incident like that to get through. It gave us all a heart attack when it fell. It almost landed on Gabriel."

Rolling his eyes, Dean glanced to the camera. "Yes, we've done a few Black Fridays in person, but now we just to it electronically. And that TV is _still_ the best deal I've ever gotten."

"I'm not sure what mine was," Castiel admitted.

"Yeah, but it's hard to impress you. You're thrifty." Jerking a thumb at him, Dean stated, "Black Friday to him is like that surge of people at the gym in January to a body builder."

"I wouldn't go that far.

"It's a good thing. It's awesome. It's part of why we're able to do what we do, why I'm able to do what I do for you guys. Some things we're frugal with, other things we splurge on. Is it a teacher thing, you think?"

"No, I think it's a personal thing."

The knot of traffic finally eased up, and they made better time. Shortly after this they stopped for lunch, refueling with cheeseburgers before running the gauntlet. Traffic always seemed to get worse the closer they got.

They played twenty questions, Castiel touched base with his brother via text, and answered his mother's check-in to see how the traffic was. Hanna worried, but she didn't hover. She'd broken that habit during his freshman year of college, and had taken up periodic calls or texts instead of daily pestering. He'd let her know when they were leaving, and once assured they were surviving the traffic she left them be. He was also able to get an update on Sam and Gabriel, who were closer than they were. At a guess they'd get there an hour or so before Dean and Castiel.

"Think we'll beat them there?" Dean asked, passing a particularly oblivious car via the right lane as Castiel got the camera back into position.

"I doubt it." Looking at the list, he read, "'Do you watch Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade?'"

"Sometimes. It's usually just on in the background."

"He likes to watch the floats and balloons," Castiel explained.

"So do you," Dean protested with a huff. "They're awesome. Come on, when else are you gonna see Snoopy and Superman _that_ big? They make it fun."

"Touché."

They did try to put it off, but they were still over an hour our when they decided to just finish the questions.

"Question eight. 'Do you watch football? If so, who do you root for?'"

"Absolutely. Thanksgiving football is a sacred tradition," Dean informed the camera. "It's one of the few things me and his brothers can agree on. No guarantee we're routing for the same people, but we watch. I'm not gonna say who I do or don't side with, I'm not going there."

"I don't care either way, so it doesn't matter."

"He really doesn't."

"Question nine. 'Is there a show/movie you watch during Thanksgiving?' I do enjoy A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. Snoopy is a classic. Besides football and Macy's parade there's not really anything people usually watch, is there?"

Dean grinned, laughing. "Okay, have any of you guys seen the 'WKRP Turkey Drop'? I'll put the link down below, promise me you'll check it out. It's _hilarious."_

A smile split Castiel's own face. "It is. I agree, you should check it out. I take it back, that is my favorite."

"Same."

"Last question. 'Are there any traditions that you have that you weren't raised with?'"

He pondered that as he stowed the list, glancing over to see his husband wearing an equally thoughtful expression. He'd helped Dean choose these, but things had been so busy lately he honestly hadn't thought about the answer much. Even though he hadn't had class this week he'd been scrambled to get done everything he hadn't been able to until now.

"I think we do things simpler than we grew up with," Dean said slowly, finger tapping Baby's wheel. "I mean, yeah we go see our families, but if we didn't we wouldn't have the big dinners. We wouldn't even have turkey. It dries out too fast."

"When it's just us he does something in a crockpot. Simple, easy to reheat. We just try to relax and spend time together." It was part of why they'd both been harried, they were trying to get everything tended so they could do just that. Dean's ingredients were at home, ready to go when they got back, despite the fact Hanna always sent home leftovers. There was an empty cooler in the Impala's trunk for just that.

"We're thankful, we just don't need to do the dance to show it."

"The turkey dance?"

"What turkey dance? You mean chicken dance?"

"No, turkey dance. It's why they strut and fluff their feathers, to attract mates. We do the same thing, traveling, making meals, participating in the rituals."

The look on Dean's face was rather odd, but he said slowly, "I guess. Never heard it said like that."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Not bad," his husband admitted slowly. "Good, I guess?"

"Mmm." He paused for a beat, then asked, "Do you want to sign off now, or wait until after we get there? After you talk to everyone."

"Better do it now," Dean sighed. "No guarantee I'll be able to do it after we get there."

"Lucifer or the kids?"

"Both."

"I thought you liked them."

"I like them," Dean protested. "But your Mom starts feeding them as soon as they get there, they're on sugar highs from the jump."

Castiel couldn't find something to say to that, so he turned to the camera with what he hoped was a pleasant expression as Dean did the sign-off.

"Alright, we've got to go face the music. If you have any question requests, re-tweet or comment. Cas has agreed to do this again for Christmas. Not sure why, but he's awesome like that. If you like what you see, like, comment, and subscribe down below. Travel safe, and have a great holiday. Stay safe, Gotham!"

As Castiel stowed the camera, he glanced over at his husband. He'd been putting this off, something made easy of late. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask, "Have you spoken to Sam?"

"What about?"

"John."

Dean didn't answer right away. He had taken his father up on his offer, and since he'd come by their house he'd met with him several times. John hadn't come to their house again, Dean was being careful about letting him back in, which was understandable. He didn't talk about it much, Castiel didn't like to press, but from what he understood they were talking. Granted they were just meeting over beers, sometimes burgers, but it was something. John still wasn't welcome to Mary's house, and was still banned from gatherings indefinitely, but he was working at it.

"Sam knows."

"How much?"

"All of it. I call him after."

"Is John going to talk to him?"

"Sam still hasn't met with him, but I think he's gonna."

"Is that wise?"

"He's gonna bring Gabriel."

"Buffer?"

"Yeah. And it's only gonna last however long it takes them to finish one beer."

"That's probably wise." As he understood it, Sam and John hadn't gotten along well even before things had broken down. They were just too much alike.

"Yeah. Twenty questions?"

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

They made it roughly on time, or at least when Dean had predicted they would after traffic was factored in. Hanna pushed open the door to great them with a smile and a hug for both men, pulling them inside. She insisted they say hello to everyone and have some pumpkin pie before unloading the Impala, which was parked behind Sam's Charger.

Chuck drifted out of his study to bid them welcome, only to retreat again when Lucifer had to herd sugar-hyped kids into the backyard. They took advantage of the break, grabbing their bags from the car and dropping them off in Castiel's old room. It seemed a good a time as any after that, especially since the kids were winding down. Castiel slipped outside as Dean made sure the camera was ready for a different sort of filming.

Considering Lucifer had previously only poked fun at Castiel for his taking part in his husband's videos, it didn't take much to get his consent for the kids to be in one. In his defense, Castiel had tried to ask out of their earshot, but they'd heard anyway. The next thing he knew he had two youngsters bouncing around him asking if they could be on the internet. Whatever he thought of his brother, sociopath or no, Lucifer regarded Ruby and Alfie and heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"Fine. But only if you settle down. You don't want to look back five years from now and be embarrassed because you were bouncing off the walls."

"Aww, Luci, I think your heart grew three sizes," Gabriel cooed.

Lucifer scratched his jaw with a single finger, out of eye sight of the kids now clambering on a playset, making Gabriel snicker.

"What about you? You gonna do it?"

"If I don't they're just going to nag the hell out of me," Lucifer sighed, taking a sip of the hard cider Hanna had made.

Smiling, Castiel went back inside, meeting Dean and Sam as they came downstairs. They'd already filmed their parts, so Dean turned the camera on him as he asked, "What're you thankful for, Cas?"

He cocked his head, considering. "I'm thankful for a healthy, mostly sane family," he said slowly. "I'm thankful to have work, to have a roof over my head, and a husband who is also healthy and mostly sane."

Dean lowered the camera, making a face as Sam clapped him on the shoulder, snickering.

"That's sweet. Don't you think? Admit it, that was nice, Dean."

"Shut up," Dean grumbled, shrugging him off.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

One by one, they went around to ask the same question of each of Castiel's immediate family. All of whom had agreed to take part with varying degrees of enthusiasm. It was almost funny, seeing the contrast of Chuck from his position in an armchair where he'd been nursing something a little harder than the cider, then getting Hanna in the kitchen, fussing with her hair and blouse before finally believing her son's instance that she looked just fine.

"I'm thankful for family," Chuck said, sounding nervous. "That we could all be here."

It was short and sweet. Dean could work with that. Then came the process of promising Hanna she didn't need to change clothes, she looked beautiful as is.

Once she'd finally settled enough to be recorded, clasping her hands before her, Hanna said, "Well, I'm thankful to have my grandchildren here for the holidays, I'm thankful to have my children here, and I'm thankful the ones who couldn't be here got to their destinations safely. I'm thankful for…Thanksgiving." She wavered, then asked, "Was that okay?"

"That was perfect," Dean promised, stepping over to put an arm around her shoulders. Hanna smiled shyly, still a bit flustered at the idea of being on a YouTube video, reaching up to pat the hand on her arm.

"My turn?" Gabriel asked, bouncing into the kitchen. "Hey, no cozying up to the chef."

"I'm a chef too," Dean argued. "She's just that awesome."

"She's my Mom, I get first dibs on dessert duty. Hey!"

"You can share, you know," Hanna protested, blushing at the kiss that had been planted on her cheek.

"No!"

"Dean, please release my mother. You can argue over who helps her in the kitchen later. Let Gabriel say his thing."

It took some more poking from him and Sam, but they got them separated enough to get Gabriel's shot. Sam kept him inside afterward, a strategic move on their part. They needed Lucifer calm for this, and Gabriel had a habit of riling up the kids. They bounced off each other. It wasn't a bad thing, but it wasn't conducive to what they were doing at the moment.

The very second Dean stepped outside, he was promptly mobbed. Castiel stood back, watching as his husband laughed and handled the two balls of raw sugar-fueled energy. He watched, considering it something of a minor miracle that he got them to stand up against the house and stay mostly still long enough to say their peace. He even played it back so they could see it after and give their approval. Ruby went first, then Alfie, the latter decidedly more shy once Dean said, "Action!"

"Alright, you're turn. Last one." Dean turned his attention and his camera on Lucifer, circling around him.

Castiel was careful to stay out of the shot, watching his elder brother as he leaned up against the house, taking a drag from his cigarette. He wished he wouldn't smoke, but he'd been making strides since Ruby was born. One pack a day had been whittled down to an as-needed basis.

"What're you thankful for?"

Lucifer lowered his cancer stick, blowing out smoke through his nose as he jerked his chin towards the swings. "Them. Little rug rats are the best thing that's ever happened to me. Made it worth putting up with my bitch of an ex-wife for as long as I did. I'm thankful for that too. Limited contact with the ex."

All things considered, it was far more PG than Castiel had worried it would be. Dean seemed satisfied, lowering his camera and giving a thumbs up. Heaving a sigh, Castiel wandered a safe distance away to get out of smoke range, standing by the back door. He thrust his hands into his trench coat pockets, watching as Alfie got himself going on a swing, Ruby clambering back and forth on the monkey bars. He was vaguely aware of Dean wandering his way, checking over the footage.

"We good?"

"Yep. Just need to do the usual editing and piece things together."

Castiel hummed absently, lips twitching in a brief smile as Alfie got going high enough to jump, whooping as he flew through the air. He landed on his feet, lurching forward onto his hands before getting upright. Grass and dirt sticking to his palms, he turned right back around and got on the swing again. Ruby, meanwhile, had managed to hoist herself through the bars to sit on them, legs dangling. She seemed content with this, being oddly quiet for a change.

His eyes drifted back to Alfie, who was working himself up to jumping height. He wasn't sure what caused it. Maybe it was because Ruby was semi-well behaved so far. Maybe it was because he was focusing on Alfie. Maybe it was because he'd been thinking about it more often lately.

Whatever it was, Castiel heard himself saying in a low voice, "I want one of those."

Dean paused, looking up from his camera. "What?"

Castiel's first instinct was to shake it off. He opened his mouth to say, "Nothing", but the word didn't come. When he tried again, he said slowly, "I want one of those."

"Really? What brought this on?"

He smiled faintly at that. Kids had always been on the table, for all traditional methods of getting them weren't exactly an option for them. Dean loved kids, he adored them, was amazing with them. Castiel always felt a bit awkward with them in all honesty, but he liked Alfie. Both he and his sister had survived when Castiel had been left to babysit them. Teenagers were one thing, he dealt with them on a regular basis, you could treat them like adults with minimal life experience. But a baby? A toddler? A tiny human who relied on him for everything? He wanted kids, but the idea of dealing with that stage had always been the most daunting.

For years they simply hadn't had the resources. Neither he nor Dean wanted to try starting a family if they were still building their careers and struggling to make rent. They'd gotten a house, gotten good work in Sioux Falls, settled down. About the time they got to where they could consider such things was when Dean discovered YouTubing. Then they'd just always been busy, then John had showed up…they weren't exactly getting any younger, he knew. He didn't want to be retirement age and still have kids in college. He had no more excuses.

"Lots of things, I suppose. Would it be something you'd be willing to discuss on the ride home?"

A wide grin split Dean's face. "You're serious?"

Castiel took in a shaky breath, then nodded. "Unless you wish to postpone- "

"No! This is great. Awesome. Yeah, we'll talk about it."

Ruby chose that moment to drop from the monkey bars and dash to the swings. She shoved Alfie, who was starting to work up for another jump, and ran off laughing. He grunted as he hit the dirt, shouting, "Hey!"

"Don't push your brother," Lucifer called, frowning.

Her answer to this was to stick her tongue out at her father and run around the house. Heaving a sigh, Lucifer put out what was left of his cigarette and went to check on Alfie. He was apparently used to his sister's antics, and was already swinging again. Satisfied he was unharmed, Lucifer marched after his rampaging demon spawn.

"Still up for that talk?"

"Yes. We have to take the good with the bad. Even if we end up with a Ruby."

"I'd rather avoid that, but…you're right."

"I know. Do you think Lucifer left us any hard cider?"

* * *

 **Seriously, just plug WKRP Turkey Drop into YouTube. It's hilarious.**

 **Please Review!**


	7. VOL 7: Christmas Special!

**Shout out to Cameron Blacks Reads, The Communist Unicorn, and Eyum daRelmera!**

 **I did it! Just barely in my time zone, but I did it! Got this thing posted in 2019!**

 **Happy New Year my pretties!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"You boys drive safe, you hear?"

Dean slammed Baby's trunk, dusting the melted frost off his hands. "Relax, Mom. We'll be fine."

"You know it'd be easier if you didn't insist on driving," Sam pointed out, eyes twinkling.

"Please don't start," Castiel sighed. "You won't be stuck in the car with him for the rest of the day."

Unlike them, Sam and Gabriel had a much shorter drive ahead of them, only a few hours. Accordingly, they didn't feel the need to leave quite so early. But since it was a six-hour drive to Sioux Falls, back up through Nebraska, Dean liked to get a jump on the traffic.

"Want some whisky for the road?" Mary was asking sympathetically.

"I ain't that bad, am I?" Dean protested.

"So long as you're kept fed, no."

Castiel and Mary shared a smile at Dean's miffed expression, folding his arms in a huffy gesture, before she crossed the icy driveway to hug her son-in-law. By the time she got to Dean he'd dropped the offended posture to hug her back. Castiel was turning back, expecting to get an embrace from Gabriel, only to see Jo shuffling out of the house at a rapid pace. She scooted across the driveway, got in range of him, then jumped the last few steps to throw her arms around his neck. He grunted on impact, but wrapped his arms around her waist.

When she seemed satisfied with this, Jo released him and shuffled over to Dean in turn. He cracked a grin at his shivering sister, swinging her around a bit before dropping her back down to her feet. "Cold, Jo?"

"I'm freezing my ass off. Merry Christmas. Love you guys."

With that she scurried back into the warmth of the house. Castiel shook his head, smiling. Jo, as she put it, did not do 'cold', and she'd come home for winter break to find snow all over the ground. Honestly he was surprised she'd come out to say goodbye. It would probably be a month or two before they saw her again. Not for the first time he marveled at the idea of missing Dean's sister more than most of his own brothers.

"You got all the leftovers you wanted, right?" Mary confirmed as Dean threw an arm around his own brother's neck.

"Yes. We have more than enough," Castiel promised. "You're sure you're alright with us taking that much Tupperware?"

"It's fine," she laughed. "Just get it back."

Eventually they did make it into the Impala, and Dean began the process of getting them onto the road. Castiel waved as they pulled away, then jammed his hands into his armpits, hunching over for warmth. The heater was blasting, the Legos still stuck in it rattling away, but it needed time.

"Give it a second, Cas. How is it you're the one who grew up in Illinois, but you're the one that's cold?"

"It's hardly by choice, I assure you."

Dean stuck a hand in front of the vents. "It's getting there. I think Mom threw some hot cocoa in the snack cooler."

"She did?" Twisting, Castiel peered into the soft sided cooler that held their snacks, right next to the green cooler of iced beverages. Sure enough, wedged between Dean's jerky and his trail mix were two paper travel cups with plastic lids. "When did she make this?"

"While we were loading up, I think."

Castiel hummed, carefully extracting the two cups as they headed out of town. He passed one to Dean, then cupped the other in both hands. It was still a little too hot to drink, but the warmth alone was decidedly pleasant. Better still, Mary made her hot coca with milk on a stove, and a dash of actual coca. While he was normally partial to coffee, the season called for something a little more special.

Since Christmas fell on a Wednesday this year, they'd decided to drive over to Mary's on Saturday. That is until Dean decided he didn't want to risk traffic, and see if it was any better at night. Castiel had slept through half the trip, but Dean swore up and down it was much easier. Despite Friday night traffic trumping Saturday morning traffic, Castiel insisted they drive home during the day, if only because they wouldn't be able to record at night. There wasn't enough light without impairing Dean's ability to drive. Mary also hadn't liked them driving at night on tricky roads. Between the two of them they were able to talk Dean out of another overnight trip.

The one downside of this was that they were driving back Monday, which meant they had to leave a little earlier in an attempt to beat any rush-hour traffic. Castiel might be off from school, and Dean might not have anymore shifts until after Christmas, but not everyone was so fortunate. Even Gabriel would be opening shop on Christmas Eve. Apparently a lot of people liked to get treats for Christmas morning breakfast, or last-minute sweets for stocking stuffers. That wasn't counting the kids who absolutely insisted that the very best cookies in town be left out for Santa. Castiel might not have believed that last one, but Sam swore to have born witness to it.

About an hour after they'd left Mary's, when the hot coca was finished and the barrage of less-than-quality Christmas songs on the radio were beginning to annoy Dean, Castiel cleared his throat. "Would you like to do a few questions now?"

"Might as well," Dean sighed, turning off the radio. "Seriously, how many ways can you do 'Frosty the Snowman'?"

"I'm not sure. They do seem persistent," Castiel said absently, getting out the camera. He got it turned on and set up on the dash mount, making sure everything was in place, then scooted over until he was in the frame. Slipping the list from his bag, he set it in his lap and asked, "Ready?"

"Ready when you are."

Reaching up, he hit the record button and sat back again, trying to remember to look at the camera and not his husband. When they weren't in conversation apparently that was appropriate. It helped that they were in a car. Honestly, he'd thought this whole recording while driving business would be a one-time-thing, but it was functional for their purposes, and they'd gotten enough of a positive response that Dean had chosen to do it this way again.

"What's up world? Your friendly neighborhood Batman is back with your favorite Q&A, this time with a Christmas Special. Or holiday special. I know not everyone celebrates Christmas, but we do, so that's what we're going with."

"The timing is more appropriate for Christmas," Castiel pointed out. "We're too late for Honokaa or St. Lucia Day, and too early for Kwanza or Las Posadas."

Dean shot him a confused look. "Remind me, what is Las Posadas again?"

"It's how they celebrate in Mexico, remember? Well, Latin America. Where they do a nativity reenactment for nine days, one for each month of the pregnancy, among other things. You liked the starshaped cookies."

"Right, got it. I keep forgetting it has a name."

"You tend to get the traditions that leave out shoes mixed up," Castiel agreed. "It is a popular tradition."

"I'll take your word for it." Looking to the camera he added, "Or he'll start listing them. Seriously."

"I suppose there is a time issue," Castiel admitted with a sigh.

"Well that, and you tend to go down rabbit holes when you get into stuff like that."

"Is it bad I'm intrigued by variations on the Midwinter traditions?"

"No, of course not," Dean hurridly assured him. When this earned him a dubiously cocked eyebrow, he added, "Didn't Mom throw in Christmas cookies? Have a Christmas cookie while we start with the first question."

Only because Gabriel had baked them did Castiel do as he was bid. He adored Mary, really, but there wasn't much she was able to cook successfully. That was mainly left up to her visiting children during the holidays, though she could make a mean pie.

Munching on a carefully decorated sugar cookie snowman, Castiel read off the first question. "'What is your favorite Christmas song?' That's appropriate." Looking at the camera, he explained, "Dean was just complaining about them. He prefers the classics."

"So do you," Dean protested.

"Yes, but there are some newer ones that are good too," Castiel countered.

"Just answer the question. Do you have a favorite?"

He had to think about that a minute, before deciding, "Holy Night, I think."

"Blue Christmas," Dean stated. "It's a classic."

"You do like your classics."

When Dean eyed him suspiciously, he read off the second question. "'What's your favorite Christmas dessert?' That one's harder. There's a wide variety of desserts associated with this time of year."

"Yeah," Dean agreed dreamily. "You've got the cookies, you've got Yule log, you've got Christmas pie. That's my pick, by the way, Christmas pie."

Castiel rolled his eyes, the obligingly explained to the camera. "I suppose sweet potato pies are still in season, but he does make a Christmas pie. What he does is he makes a cherry pie, but when he's making the dough he mixes in green food coloring. Once you add whipped cream on top, you have the three traditional colors. He calls it a Christmas pie. And I can't believe you're picking a cherry pie."

"Pie, Cas," Dean protested. "Pie."

Folding his arms, Castiel stated stiffly, "My favorite is the Yule log. I enjoy the significance as well as the dessert itself. Which is ironic, because I'd never actually had one until that first year I spent the holiday with your family. Mary made one. It was delicious."

His husband snickered. "Yeah. I kinda regret that now. You go a little crazy with the Yule logs."

"I do not."

"Since you've poached Mom's recipe you go through three of those things every December." Turning to the camera he complained, "He makes them in batches of two. One for me, one for him, but I eat mine slower, so I don't get any of the second batch. And there is hell to pay if I look at his log sideways. I accidently got a slice of his one year, and now he makes little flags with toothpicks and sticks them in so it won't happen again."

Castiel glared at him. "I specifically told you mine was the one with the foil over it. Yours had plastic wrap. It wasn't that hard."

"See? I'm still hearing about it."

"The flags work, don't they? You have yet to make that mistake again."

"That, and it's too cold out to be in the doghouse," his husband grumbled.

"You'll remember that I don't help myself to your holiday pie."

"I don't care if you eat the pie," Dean protested. "In fact, if you help me eat it, I have an excuse to make more. It's not my fault your favorite dessert is more complicated."

"This from the man who prefers his pies lattice topped."

Dean rolled his eyes, then after a beat of silence said, "Let's give it half an hour then do some more."

Castiel stopped the recording, turning off the camera for a time. A downside of the lack of traffic was there was less to entertain them, so it was more like twenty minutes before they did the next set of questions. Somehow Castiel doubted they'd have any trouble getting them in as they headed north.

"Third question, 'What's your favorite Christmas movie?'"

"Die Hard," they aid in unison, then Dean shot him a look.

"I thought yours was Home Alone or something."

"It is. Actually it's a tie, between Home Alone and Arthur Christmas. Yours is Die Hard."

"What about Polar Express?"

Castiel hesitated at that. After a beat of silence he corrected, "Three way tie."

Dean snorted. "That can't be fair. Comment below, does he have to narrow it down to at least two?"

"It's not my fault there's multiple good ones," Castiel protested.

"We're just gonna stick a pin in that. I ain't about to start a serious argument with the guy in charge of handing out Ding Dongs. What's the next question?"

Huffing, Castiel regarded the list. "'What's the best Christmas gift you've ever gotten?'"

"Huh. I mean I've had some time to think about it, but I still don't know. For a while I thought this bike I got when I was ten was the most awesome present ever," jerking a thumb at Castiel, he continued, "but then this guy got me tickets to Led Zeppelin's last concert ever."

"You mean something is in the running with that?"

"Well, yeah. Remember that year when we got the letter confirming the house was ours? You wrapped it up and stuck a bow on it. I spent an extra four days worrying about it while the paperwork sat under the tree."

Castiel smiled fondly. He'd thought himself clever. Dean had thrown a pillow at him for that, for all he'd obviously been thrilled.

"What about you?"

"Mmm? Oh. My bee boxes."

Dean blinked. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Turning to the camera he explained, "There were lots of good presents over the years. My first ice sakes. My first bike. A hardback copy of Lord of the Rings. But the first Christmas we were in our house, he sneaks out in the middle of the night and shovels half the backyard so he can put out bee boxes. Which he made himself. They're holding up quite well, actually. They're still in use. And he didn't even want them."

"Yeah, but you did," Dean grumbled, blushing. "There just wasn't time for you do to it, and you kept complaining that all the premade ones in our price range were cheap crap that'd fall apart."

"You put a lot of thought and care into it for me. Not to mention you didn't sleep much that night." He reached over, taking the hand that wasn't on Baby's wheel, lacing their fingers together. "It meant a lot to me."

Dean didn't say anything, but his ears were still pink, and he looked decidedly uncomfortable. After a few moments of this Castiel took mercy on him, turning off the camera. They rode in contented silence for a time after that, hands still together.

They didn't exchange words until they made a rest stop, and Castiel came out of the building to find Dean frowning down at his phone.

"Something wrong?"

His husband glanced up, shoving his phone into a pocket. "It's, uh, Dad."

Castiel's eyebrows arched. John had finally gotten Sam to meet with him. It was in a public place, with Gabriel literally seated between them, but it had happened. From what he'd understood, it had gone as well as it could have. Dean texted their father sometimes, not nearly as much as his mother but there was something about once a week. Jo was still off-limits, apparently she was still holding a grudge and refusing attempts at amends until he'd patched things up between her brothers. That being said…Castiel had to give the man points for consistency, and persistence.

"What did he say?"

"He wants to come by Sioux Falls before the New Years. Buy us dinner."

"Us?" Castiel repeated, head tilted. He'd been trying to stay out of this, for all he'd kept tabs on the happenings.

"Yeah. You and me both."

Going around to get back into the Impala, Castiel asked, "What do you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will you take him up on it?"

Dean got back behind the wheel, slumping in his seat. Raking a hand back over his hair he admitted, "I dunno, Cas. Would you wanna go?"

Castiel shrugged. "If you're not comfortable with it, I won't."

"If I am?"

"I will go."

His husband didn't start the car, giving him a long look. "You sure about that?"

"He's your father," he pointed out. "I'm not the one he wronged, not really. I'm a homosexual in a family of Catholics, remember? Nothing he ever said to me was worse than members of my own family or former congregation said. Getting along with everyone, getting everyone to like you, is impossible. I'm content with friends who like me for me, with family who loves me, be they blood or not. John Winchester is only of consequence to me because he's your father. He can't undo what he's done. Whether or not his transgressions are unforgivable are up to you. Whether or not they warrant certain boundaries are up to you. Whether or not he receives complete forgiveness is up to you. Whatever you choose, I will support. You know this."

"Yeah, I do." Dean gave him a tired smile. "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel dipped his head. "That being said…what are you inclined to do?"

"I dunno," he admitted, scrubbing his face wearily. "He's legit, I'm sure about that. He's definitely gonna have limits, but…if he can make nice with Sam too, I guess I'll go."

"You don't have to answer him right away, do you?"

"No."

"Then don't. Sleep on it."

Dean nodded, finally starting Baby's engine. "Yeah. I'll do that." He waited until he'd pulled back onto the interstate to ask, "Wanna do some more?"

Once everything was in position, Castiel read off the fifth question. "'Were you ever in a Christmas plan?' Well if they had a Thanksgiving play, they had to have a Christmas play. They had a play for every holiday, and it was the same story."

"Let me guess, the nativity?"

"Yes."

"What were you, anyway?"

Castiel made a face. "I intentionally requested the part of a sheep so I wouldn't have any lines. I just had to baaa a few times."

"You were a sheep?" Dean snickered.

"It wasn't my wisest choice. I really should have known better. The costume was covered in real cotton. Old, stiff, scratchy cotton, and we had to wear our costumes for all rehearsals the week leading up to the actual play. It was itchy, I came home with rashes. Stop laughing, it wasn't fun."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, not looking all sorry and clearly trying not to chuckle. "I'll bet you were a cute sheep."

"I was a very unhappy sheep with hives."

"But you were cute. Admit it. I'll have to ask your Mom for pictures the next time we're over there."

Castiel scowled at him. "I take it you never had to endure such travesties?"

"Oh we did," Dean sighed, sobering up quickly. "It wasn't just Sam. The Christmas paly and the talent show were the theater events of the year. Participation was mandatory for all fifth graders. Sam got lucky, they stuck him on stage crew."

A slow smile started to spread across Castiel's face. "You didn't mention this before."

"It wasn't my finest moment."

"What did they have you play?"

"Would you believe they cast Jo as an angel? Even after she got in school suspension for beating up the guy stealing lunch money? The theater teacher even sent home a note to have Mom cover the black eye with makeup for the big night."

"As impressive as all that is, what were you?"

Dean made a face, shifted uncomfortably, then grudgingly admitted, "Joseph."

Castiel's eyes widened. "How did that happen?"

"I don't know," Dean groaned. "I didn't have that many lines, but I wanted to be on the stage crew. I specifically said I didn't want the part. There were plenty of other kids to choose from, but _no."_ He made a face. "I think the teacher was trying to punish me for not paying attention in class or something."

"That's…unusual."

"Yeah, well, you're the one who told me they suspended a kid for missing too much school. They rewarded him for not coming to school with not making him come to school. Seriously, how does that make sense?"

"I was not involved in that," Castiel informed him.

They fiddled a bit, listening to a few tracks before Castiel grew tired of them. At which point he reached for the list. You could only listen to the same songs so many times.

Turning his attention to the sixth question, he read off, "'What's your favorite part about Christmas?'"

"Certainly ain't all the music that starts right after Halloween," Dean grumbled.

"You like the music, you just don't like it's quantity."

"Oh, and you do?"

"Dean."

"Fine, uh…I like a lot of things about it. But I guess my favorites would be the food and spending time with family."

Castiel cracked a smile. He'd anticipated the food, but it was nice to know the second part too. "I like how it's spread out more than Thanksgiving. Traveling is easier, and you don't feel quite as rushed. I do enjoy the food too, but I think my favorite part is partaking in traditions with people who are dear to me."

Dean glanced over at him. "Yeah? Like which ones?"

He pondered for a moment, trying to decide which ones to speak of. "The shopping part can be unpleasant, but I do like exchanging gifts, seeing your reactions. Baking is fun, now that I've got the hang of it. Getting all the decorations up."

His husband groaned softly. "Decorating? Seriously?"

"The end result, not the process, like the gifts," Castiel corrected.

"Yeah, I guess so. Our house looks pretty awesome right now."

"That it does," Castiel agreed. He personally enjoyed that bit, but he knew his husband did not. "And of course there's Midnight Mass."

Dean didn't comment, but as Castiel predicted he had to reach up a hand to smother a yawn.

"As you can see, just mentioning it has him sleepy."

"I go with you," Dean protested.

It was something Castiel appreciated, the effort. Dean did try to be supportive, for all he himself was more spiritual than religious, in his own way. Castiel still found mass cathartic, he enjoyed going, but it tended to put Dean to sleep. Literally. They sat in the back so as to avoid the stares that inevitably resulted when anyone noticed Dean was no longer conscious. At least he didn't snore, for all Castiel often pulled double duty as a pillow. When the weather was suitable Dean periodically stayed in the car, but it had been too cold lately for that. Castiel appreciated his support, especially since he knew that Dean wouldn't come to church at all if left to his own devices.

Bearing all this in mind, it meant a great deal to Castiel, that Dean attended Midnight Mass with him. That he stayed awake through it all, held his hand and mouthed the hymns with him, stayed awake and by his side through it all. Castiel had to drive home so his husband could nap, but he was awake when it counted.

"I know. It's part of why it's one of my favorite Christmas traditions."

"It's kinda cool, actually," Dean admitted grudgingly. "I don't understand a lot of it, but it's…beautiful."

"I think so too."

Dean cleared his throat, asking, "Next?"

"'What's your least favorite part about Christmas?' That one's a little easier, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"I don't like what it's become. Running around, do this, buy that, remember to rush. It's so commercialized, and it's easy to forget what the focus really needs to be. It's easy to forget to enjoy the traditions, the little things make Christmas…Christmas."

"Great. Real wholesome. I was gonna complain about risking my neck getting the lights on the roof and fighting crowds anytime you wanna grab so much as a gallon of milk."

"Those are valid complaints too," Castiel pointed out. "And I do appreciate you getting the lights up there. He's the one who puts them in the trees and on the roof."

Jerking a thumb at Castiel, Dean explained, "He's the mastermind behind all the decorating stuff for this time of year. I just do what he tells me."

"It works out nicely, doesn't it?"

"If you say so."

Smiling, Castiel reached up to turn off the camera. It took a little bribery on his part, getting Dean to help with the decorating, but he did like the results. Their house had been ranked in the top three these last years when judges came around to rank Christmas lights. He was quite proud of that accomplishment.

"How many do we have left?" Dean asked, turning on the radio. He didn't turn it up much, just to background levels, so they could still talk easily.

"Three. Should we wait until after lunch?"

"Probably. Speaking of which, you hungry?"

"Why does that not surprise me?"

They stopped long enough to grab some food, and once they'd eaten their fill they took up the questions again.

"'Have you ever gotten a real tree?' Unfortunately, yes, we have. Neither of us had real trees in a long time, just when were little kids. A few years ago, we thought we'd try getting one. That was a mistake."

"We knew going in it'd be more work, and it wouldn't look the same. But I think part of our mistake was going out to this place where you could cut the trees down yourself. I nearly lost a thumb when we were doing that part."

"It was an omen," Castiel sighed. "We should have paid heed."

"Yeah. Nearly lost it twice just getting the thing home. Then it took way too long to get it set up the way we wanted."

"We spent over an hour getting it set just right, where it was straight in the stand. I didn't think it'd be so tricky, getting the little dish full of water."

"The sad part is, that ain't even the worst of it," Dean admitted.

"It makes for a funny story now, but at the time it was hardly pleasant."

"You're telling me. So we're up late getting this stupid tree set up. We couldn't even put anything on it because it was almost midnight by then. We go to bed, and just as we're getting to sleep we hear something downstairs."

"We went down to check, but we couldn't find anything."

"Rinse and repeat two more times before we figured out what it was," Dean admitted.

"A chipmunk was in our house," Castiel deadpanned, folding his arms. "It would hide when we came down to look for it. When we started rummaging around it got spooked."

Dean scrubbed at his face with a hand wearily. "Would you believe we spent over an hour herding that thing out a door?"

"He finally caught it in a pot, then let it out outside."

"Never again."

"It's hardly worth it. Though I do feel sorry for the chipmunk. If anyone checked the tree they missed it. It was probably scared and only left the tree when it finally got quiet."

"You feel sorry for it?" Dean demanded incredulously. "You were cursing that thing up and down at the time."

"Yes, in the heat of the moment. In hindsight I pity it. More so than the other vermin that hitched a ride on that tree."

"Yeah. I'm just glad we didn't have to fumigate after that. We did have to call an exterminator."

"We weren't aware there were lots of bugs that had also come in with the tree," Castiel sighed. "We didn't notice for a while. The night before we were supposed to drive to my family, I was getting everything together so we could just grab things and go in the morning. There were insects and spiders all over the presents. I had to rewrap everything. Very unpleasant."

"No kidding. So yeah, we've had one real tree, and won't be doing that ever again. It didn't even have the smell, which was half the reason we did it in the first place. Next?"

"'Do you open a present on Christmas Eve?' No, we don't."

"I know a lot of people do, but I never understood why."

Castiel shrugged, looking back to the list. "Last question. 'Do you put out cookies and milk for Santa?'"

He wasn't entirely sure how to answer that, something Dean didn't seem to share. He jumped right into, "Yes, yes we do."

What? Oh. Right. They'd discussed this previously. "We can never agree on that front, so we set out a few cookies and a slice of Christmas pie. This way he has both to choose from as he sees fit. Plus the obligatory milk."

"I mean come on, you gatta, right?"

"Better safe than sorry."

"Alright, that's all for this year. Cas and me are in route home after the last of our obligatory family time, then we're gonna get some much needed R&R. You wouldn't believe how much work he put into getting everything graded before winter break. He even had the big tests right before so no one would have to study over the holidays. Ain't he awesome?"

Castiel blushed, ducking his head as he folded the list, stowing it in his bag. Yes, he did make such efforts. He'd always hated having to study when he was trying to relax and celebrate a holiday. Accordingly, he made efforts to ensure that if his students had to endure such things, it wouldn't be by his hand.

"That's gonna be all for now. This is the last of the holiday specials for the time being. If you like what you say, like, comment, and subscribe down below. Travel safe, the weather can be freakishly frightful this time of year. Happy holidays, whatever you celebrate and wherever you are. Stay safe, Gotham!"

The rest of their trip was uneventful, not even a traffic jam. They made it home, and the first things to get unloaded from the Impala was the food. Once that was safely stowed, they took care of the rest.

Dean lugged their suitcases upstairs as Castiel went to check the mail, wiggling out the bundle of what he assumed was mostly junk from their mailbox. They'd only been gone a day or two, there hadn't been need to stop it. He absently flipped through some of the items as he made his way back up their driveway, singling out two more Christmas cards and shuffling a few letters to send straight to the garbage.

He had made his way into the garage, and was about to hit the button to close the door, when an insignia on a crisp envelope caught his eye. For a moment Castiel stared at it, heart pounding. He opened his mouth to call for Dean, then closed it. A envelope didn't mean anything, he had no idea what was inside it yet.

Hurridly he jammed the garage door button, ducking inside and shutting that door on his heels. He dumped the mail on the kitchen counter, grabbing the envelope and ripping it open. Fingers a little unsteady, he pulled out the letter inside and unfolded it. He read it over hurridly, then made himself slow down.

When he did, a wide smile split his face, eyes burning. "Dean!"

"Yeah?" came the idle call from upstairs.

"Dean! Dean, come here!" His voice broke as he lurched through the kitchen, making for the stairs. His husband met him at their base, a worried look on his face, apparently having heard the tone in his shout.

"What? What's wrong?"

Wordlessly, Castiel handed him the letter. Dean grabbed it, eyes darting back and forth across it. His fingers tightened on the paper as he read it over, then read it again. A smile began to spread across his own face.

"It came through," he whispered, voice awed as he looked up to stare at his husband. "It came through, she said it wouldn't happen until the new year." He barked out a laugh, raking a shaky hand back over his hair.

"It came through," Castiel echoed, awed himself.

They'd ended up using the entirety of their drive home from Pontiac to discuss children as a whole. How they wanted to try going about it, what routes to take, and the logistics. Castiel used up what cell data he had left doing research as they debated. In the end they decided to adopt, and to keep it domestic. If they wanted to do more in the future they'd look into international, but domestic seemed less complicated for round one. As for surrogacy…they'd agreed it just hadn't felt right. Especially since there were already so many children already in the world that needed a family.

As soon as things had opened up that Monday morning, Dean had been making calls and sending emails. Castiel had actually co-written the emails, but he hadn't been able to take off on such short notice. They'd been able to do research aplenty during their Thanksgiving downtime, been able to make some decisions and find a social worker in Sioux Falls that would be their best bet. While there were others, Hanna was the only one who dealt with LGBT adoptions. They'd been able to schedule a meeting with her by the end of the week, sitting down to hammer out the details. There weren't any surprises, at least, they'd been very thorough in their research. Hanna had actually been impressed.

The fact that they were going domestic meant the wait times would be shorter, at least. But there were still steps to go through, starting with a background check. Then on to building a profile, doing the home study, the education program. Lots of paperwork, but that was understandable.

Despite them getting right on it, they were still dealing with government bureaucracy. They were working on their profile, but the home study couldn't start until the background check cleared. Which was exactly what this beautiful letter told them.

Abruptly Castiel stepped forward, throwing his arms around Dean and holding him tight. It was just the first hurdle, but still. They were that much closer to having a child of their own.

"Think Hanna's in her office?" Dean muttered, hugging him back.

"I'll call and check," Castiel mumbled.

His husband chuckled when this statement wasn't followed by a release. "Merry Christmas, eh Cas?"

"Merry Christmas."

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